Three Years of Uneaten Strawberries
by AlwaysHatedEssays
Summary: :Vegeta/Bulma: With the threat of the androids looming over the horizon, Vegeta does whatever he can to become stronger. He finds himself relying on the help of a fearless heiress with a streak of pride and sharp wit to rival his own... and somehow he begins to harbor something more than a grudging respect for her...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** – This is a long, winding expedition into those mysterious three years. Expect to see a lot of verbal sparring and subtly escalating sexual tension. There's a fair amount of smut, too, but I won't spoil it or give any forewarning aside from this preemptive notice. _You've been warned…_

Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

**~Three years of uneaten strawberries~**

* * *

The pungent scent of ripe strawberries filled his nostrils, permeating his fine-tuned nasal passages and dulling his sense of smell. To him it was malodorous; an incessant, sweet aroma making a path through his airway and infiltrating his lungs.

He found that he hated the stench.

Worst of all, he'd come to learn that _that woman_—that brazen, vulgar woman—was very fond of these red berries.

_This woman is completely and utterly infuriating! _

It was a warm autumn day in West City. Bulma, Yamcha, Oolong, Puar, and Vegeta, the Briefs family's reluctant house guest, were outside eating an assortment of food that Bulma had prepared. Taking the favorable weather into consideration, the heiress had decided it would be a great day for a lunch outing and had asked everyone to join in, even Vegeta.

Hesitantly he had accepted, convincing himself that it was only on the condition that he would sneak most of the food away all for his royal person. He would not accept an invitation to sit among a plebian species for idle chit-chat; He did not intend to talk and converse with _them_, to him their prattle was nothing above useless and annoying. He resented that he was even wasting his time amongst the Earthling scum.

Then "the woman" had come, bearing in her arms a bowl of those wretched berries she loved so much. She'd been growing a small crop of them in her garden, apparently, and she had picked the ripe berries herself that morning. She boasted that the strawberries she grew were the best in existence.

"Maybe Capsule Corp should be converted to a strawberry farm," Yamcha joked.

"Oh, knock it off." Bulma laughed, "It's not like my life revolves around these things, you know. They just happen to be my favorite." The blue-haired woman plucked a strawberry from her bowl, reflecting, "I've always like them, since… gosh, long before I met you."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like them more than me," Yamcha huffed.

"Sure I do," Bulma mused and folded her arms across her chest, flicking her head to the side and setting her blue curls into motion.

She could feel a set of angry eyes locked on to the back of her head. She suddenly remembered her grumpy house guest, still sitting at the farthest end of the table by himself.

"Hey, Vegeta, would you like to try some of my strawberries? Maybe you would appreciate them more than these jerks," she shot a glare at Yamcha, Oolong, and Puar, who were busy eating the other food laid out on the table and ignoring her bowl of strawberries completely.

"I have no interest in something so inedible." The prince diverted his attention as he spoke to her, letting her know just how disinterested he was.

A bit stung and disheartened, she retorted, "Oh? And why not? I'll have you know these strawberries are the best you'll ever taste this side of the galaxy!"

Vegeta was about to retort when Yamcha butted in, "Forget about him, Bulma, he's just a total downer who doesn't know good food when he sees it."

"As if," Vegeta sneered, crossing his arms and chiding with contempt, "You're the fool who does not know good food, or _drink_, for that matter, seeing as you reek of your third-rate Earthling intoxicant and the company of harlots."

The others couldn't notice it, but Vegeta's fine-tuned Saiyan senses could pick it up unmistakably. Often when Yamcha crashed at Capsule Corp, he carried the odor of club hopping and cheap liquor. Yet another familiar stench the royal had come to find displeasing.

Bulma frowned at the accusation. She threw a stern look at her boyfriend, who shrunk under her scrutiny.

She knew the former bandit rarely went out drinking, though he had a habit of spending a lot of time with those who did. And often it was a swarm of pesky young girls who liked to hang on his coattails. Yamcha was quite fond of the attention they gave him, and Bulma didn't settle well with that.

Vegeta scoffed and said nothing more, wearing only a smirk on his mouth. He so enjoyed putting others down and causing turbulence among these Earthling trash.

There was a tense moment of silence as Bulma eyed Yamcha suspiciously, processing Vegeta's cutting remark. She knew that other women were hitting on her boyfriend, often very inebriated, uninhibited, amorous women seeking his acquaintanceship, but he always claimed he did not actively seek them out; the women approached him first, he said.

He was true to his word; he had never cheated on her. But being a former pupil of the Turtle Hermit, he had been taught by Roshi that it was acceptable to have a healthy appreciation for the opposite sex.

In the end, he would always come crawling back to the heiress. They had been having difficulties with their relationship lately, and things had become more problematic over the years. But they'd been together for so long… it was comfortable and convenient to stick with what was familiar to them. Besides, it was possible they only had three years left to live. There was no way they could move on with something that dreadful looming over them.

What was she to do with him? Though annoyed, Bulma just huffed and plopped an entire strawberry into her mouth.

"So... how's your training going, Yamcha?" Oolong broke the silence, simultaneously stuffing his face with a jelly-filled pastry and making loud smacking sounds with his mouth.

Vegeta pulled a face of disgust as he observed the pig's unruly eating habits. If he had his way, he would roast that pig alive for his meal...

"Well, me and Puar are thinking of going on a training journey..."

Bulma's mouth hung open, and the strawberry she had been eating toppled out and rolled onto the table. "Why am I only hearing about this now? You didn't mention anything to me about leaving!"

Yamcha merely laughed it off, while with a finger he flicked the strawberry from the table top. "Relax, Bulma. I'm not leaving just this minute." For a quick second he glanced at Vegeta, who didn't appear to be paying any attention to the conversation, as he was absorbed with the task of tearing into a steak with his teeth. "And c'mon, it's not like I'm going to run off just to have a good time. I'm going to be training hard to stop the androids; you have nothing to worry about."

_Pathetic runt, _Vegeta thought to himself as he tore a strip of flesh from his steak.

"Don't worry Bulma, I'll keep an eye on him!" Puar offered with a squeak.

"Hmph!" Bulma placed her hands on her hips. "Fine. Do whatever you like. Now, if all of you are done eating, you can go ahead and take your dirty dishes inside."

She looked over to where Vegeta had been sitting just ten seconds ago. He was already gone, but the mess of dishes he left behind was monumental. Bulma could feel her temples boiling with rage. "Ugh! What. A. _Pig!_ Just look at this catastrophic wasteland he left behind! Does he expect _me_ to clean this up?"

Yamcha hopped from his seat and started piling Vegeta's dishes. "Don't worry about it, I can handle this."

As Yamcha, Oolong, and Puar carried their dishes inside, Bulma sighed and looked back at the bowl of strawberries. She was the only one who had eaten any. It was not that the others were trying to be rude or anything, they had just been much too busy eating the rest of the food to take notice.

She decided not to let it bother her, after all, they had each tried her strawberries years before, she had made sure of that. All but-

_Vegeta_. Bulma groaned and thought to herself,_ That freak eats so much... Just ONE little fruit couldn't have killed him._

She looked toward where the training capsule stood on the other side of the lawn. The windows were tinted red, indicating that the gravity simulation had been activated and Vegeta had already resumed his training.

Bulma rolled her eyes. _That battle hungry ape-man. Mark my words, Vegeta, you WILL try one of my strawberries someday!_

* * *

The late autumn heat died down as evening drew to a close. The last orange hues of the sky mellowed into the grayish blue preceding nightfall. The marigold dappled sunlight slowly but surely faded from the domed Capsule Corp building, and inside the compound Bulma sat alone in the living room, watching one of her melodramatic soap operas. Onscreen, and with terrible acting, two women were arguing about a philandering boyfriend.

Bulma picked up the remote and grumbled. She flipped through the channels to find something that wouldn't be a nagging reminder of her relationship problems. Unable to find anything especially entertaining, she settled on a nature documentary.

Featured was a segment involving chimpanzees. The chimps were running about rampantly, while others groomed each other, eating the parasitic bugs they combed through the hairs of their comrades.

Bulma snickered, amused by the crude behavior of the primates. They reminded her of a certain scowling house guest. "This looks like a chronicle on the lives of those barbaric king-kong Saiyans."

"Who's barbaric?" a snide voice called from behind her.

Bulma jumped, startled to find that she was not alone.

Vegeta was standing by the window, a huge plate of food in his hands and a mean smirk on his lips. He enjoyed that his voice had made her spring up in fear. Frightening these idiotic Earthlings was his forte and seemed to be one of the few perks to living on this mud ball of a planet.

Bulma tried to regain her composure, but her pulse was racing through her after the scare. "What are you doing here? I assumed you disliked coming into this room." He'd often complained about the volume of the television, so it was a surprise that he had actually come into the room. He must have been very bored, and needed some amusement to pass the time… Amusement that he would likely seek at her expense, Bulma realized.

"Your bothersome mother insisted that I step foot inside this dump to retrieve my meal." He shoveled some food into his mouth and gulped it down. "_You_ should have brought it to me like an obedient servant."

Bulma pouted and spun around to resume watching the television, attempting to ignore her rude guest.

Vegeta eyed the television. The chimps on the screen were thrashing their arms about wildly, fighting each other in their primordial quest for dominance. The animalistic display reminded him of when he had lived on his home planet during the short length of his childhood. He still had bleak memories of his fellow Saiyans transforming into giant apes under the full moon, hordes of his kind conquering all in their paths. This nature documentary wasn't far from bearing semblance to those memories, so he continued to watch with only mild interest.

Suddenly the group of chimpanzees cornered a monkey that had strayed into enemy territory. The chimps attacked it, using their numbers to their advantage to tear into their enemy and spill its blood.

"Oh, _gross_! I can't watch this!" Bulma gagged, reaching for the remote. But to her surprise the remote was no longer at her side. It was in Vegeta's hand, out of her reach. He was standing above her, staring intently at the ghastly scene playing out on the television.

Bulma scowled. "Give me the remote, I can't handle this disgusting program!"

Vegeta snorted, ignoring her demand. The show seemed to interest him; Bulma could see the intent in his gaze as he watched the bloodshed onscreen. He was taking in every detail and appeared to be enjoying it—the raw brutality he seldom had the chance to see since taking up residency on this planet.

"Ew! This is awful! Vegeta, give me the remote _now!_"

"Quiet!" he snapped, tearing his face away from the television for a moment to scowl at her. She glowered back at him. Having succeeded in silencing her for a moment, he turned his attention back to the program. The battered and broken monkey's eyes glazed over as death gripped it. The chimps had begun to eat the fallen enemy.

Vegeta smirked, remarking, "Your intolerance for a little bloodshed is almost amusing. This is nothing to us Saiyans. In fact, we _crave_ the sight of carnage. You Earthlings are so pitiful to be unable to stomach this. That is one of the many factors attributing to your weakness."

"Gross. Are you Saiyans so uncivilized that you will even eat the flesh of your enemies, just like these monkeys?" Bulma gestured toward the television while a grimace spread across her features.

"It may come to that if we are hungry enough," he answered simply.

With satisfaction, Vegeta noted the look of complete disgust etched on Bulma's face. He almost laughed at the way her horror amused him.

"You're not planning on eating me, are you?" she eyed him apprehensively.

Sneering, he replied, "I hardly think your grotesque flesh would satiate me, woman. Besides, eating you would be unnecessary when I have you and your family of slaves at my expense to prepare all the food I require."

"UGH!" Bulma sank further into the sofa and crossed her arms, her lips pushed into a full, displeased pout. _Who does this guy think he is?_ she thought. _How could he talk to ME in such a rude manner! Me, Bulma Briefs, the most intelligent and talented girl on Earth, and probably the prettiest babe he's ever laid his beady little eyes on!_

With her self-comforting thoughts she felt reassured and smiled contemptuously, forgetting the offending behavior Vegeta had just exhibited moments ago.

She noticed that he was just standing idly, barely absorbed in watching the television now that the cannibalistic monkey program had ended. Boredom and disinterest were clearly striking his face. The food was nearly gone from his plate.

She could not let him leave now! She'd been feeling grouchy all evening after hearing of Yamcha's plan to leave her behind to go on his ridiculous little training journey, and now she was in the mood for some light verbal sparring to cheer herself up. She had to bait Vegeta to stay a bit longer. If he was going to antagonize her, she may as well dish out the same treatment and get a few laughs out of it.

She chatted, "Hey Vegeta, there's a show you might like to watch on-"

"I am not interested," he cut her off before she could even finish, and he shoveled the last of his food into his mouth.

Not backing down, she added, "Oh, but it's a show about fighting. I thought maybe you could learn a few moves to use against those androids..." she smiled—it was a very scheming smile, which Vegeta missed. She knew just how to push his buttons, and she hoped she could persuade him by using a topic on fighting as bait. Though she did not know him all that well, if he was at all like Goku and as obsessed with fighting as he was, he would probably be a little interested.

Vegeta paused for a moment and seemed to consider it over in his head. The offer was certainly tempting. It wasn't like he had anything better to do at the moment, besides. But still he resisted, "I doubt you Earthlings could have developed any techniques worthy of my time or capable of holding my interest."

"C'mon, it's not like spending half an hour watching people fighting on tv is going to hold you back on your training," Bulma coaxed, "Besides, Goku watches this stuff all the time, and he tells me he learned some useful fighting tricks from it." That last part was a lie, of course.

Half a second later the prince plopped himself down onto the couch just a few feet from Bulma. She could feel the impact of his body against the sofa, startling her.

With one careless swipe of the arm he tossed the remote to her. "Go on, then. Enlighten me."

Fumbling, Bulma caught the remote in both hands. "Ah. Right. Let's see here..." She flipped through the channels, searching for what she hoped would interest the Saiyan.

_Anything that low-class imbecile Kakarot can do, so can I,_ Vegeta thought to himself, gritting his teeth. _Though I wouldn't put much stock in some moronic television show holding the secret to his ascension. _

He had his doubts about this, though he was admittedly a bit curious to watch. Aside from training, he didn't have much else to do to occupy his time, and he did find it enjoyable watching people pummel each other when he wasn't the one doing the beating.

_Oh boy. You're in for it now_... Bulma rubbed her temple with the back of her free hand, fretting, _Of course Goku wouldn't bother watching this kind of stuff on tv, if he even watches tv at all. If Vegeta finds that out..._

She caught a lucky break; only a few channels up, a boxing match had just barely begun.

On the screen, the two fighters shuffled around in the ring, displaying impressive rhythmic footwork and speed (impressive to human standards, at least).

Vegeta observed silently. Of course he was gifted with immeasurable skill compared to these men on the television, but he had to admit that it was a little entertaining to sit back and observe simpletons fighting.

Then one of the fighters quickly struck out with his fist, jabbing the other square in the jaw and knocking him out cold instantly.

Vegeta gave a mean laugh. "You'll end up regretting that you have shown this to me when I apply that technique to Kakarot's face."

The boxing match ended and was followed by a commercial break. An advertisement for delivery flowers flashed onto the screen.

_Ugh! Just what I need to see!_ Bulma groaned, immediately thinking back to her relationship troubles. Yamcha used to send her flowers quite often, but in recent years he hadn't bothered, possibly because he was too busy with other things... and whenever he and Bulma got together, their little interactions usually ended in a fight.

_I wonder if that jerk is sending bouquets to other girls instead of me... _Bulma felt the urge to hurl something out the window. She figured a chair would do nicely.

The commercial ended and commenced with the next. The television bleated an obnoxious narrative, "WARNING: This commercial contains adult material not suitable for children!"

Bulma frowned. _Oh no, it's one of THOSE commercials._ She was about to change the channel, but she reconsidered, grinning devilishly, _Maybe it would be a little fun to see Vegeta's reaction to this._

No sooner after the abrupt five-second warning ended, there were dozens of women on the screen. Various clips showed them dancing around, ripping and peeling their clothes off before rolling around on bed sheets for the promised reward of nothing more than a t-shirt.

Much to Bulma's utter delight, she saw that Vegeta's face went taut with an expression of extreme revulsion, and his eyes grew wide with horror and disgust. He could feel the hair standing on the back of his neck and his face burning hot.

"Just _what_ is this repulsive, tasteless ritual of vulgarity_?_!" he could not hide the discomfort in his voice.

Bulma covered her mouth in an attempt to suppress a giggle, but failed, as a very loud snort slid out from her lips and between her fingers. Vegeta turned his head to cautiously scrutinize the heiress. He was half expecting her to lift her shirt up just as the women on the screen had.

Catching his appalled gaze, Bulma smirked and waggled a finger at him. "I'll bet you're thinking you'd rather see _me_ take my clothes off, huh?" Vegeta flinched as she leaned in closer to him.

"Tch!" He averted his eyes from the overly sultry female. "What makes you think I'd want to see _you_ unclothed? I have no intentions of ever laying my eyes on your mutant body. The sight of your bare flesh alone may be enough to make me go blind."

A calculating smile played on Bulma's lips as she brought her slender hands to the bottom of her shirt, and slowly she lifted the fabric up by several inches, revealing just a small glimpse of the porcelain skin of her stomach.

Through half-lidded, seductive eyes she was pleased to note that Vegeta's face was clearly marked with an expression of utter shock. He swallowed uncomfortably as a single bead of sweat rolled down from his neck and rested on his collarbone. He wanted to get up and take-off, but his body went rigid, locking him in place as if a petrifying spell had been cast over him and rendering him helpless against her sudden flirtatious advancement.

Slowly her hands continued their ascent.

"Stop that at once!" he shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, Bulma's hands were back at her sides and she still remained fully clothed. But she was laughing hysterically now. Vegeta scowled and felt anger building inside him.

"I was just teasing you," she laughed. "Oh man, you should see your face! Ha ha!"

"How _dare_ you mock me, you unchaste harlot!" His fists clenched and he felt his pride falling fast. He was not amused in the least, and her laughter only sent a surge of rage through him. How dare she treat him like this!

She ceased her merriment and playfully winked at Vegeta, "Look, if you really want a Girls Gone Wild DVD that badly, I'll buy one for you, alright?" She smiled demurely, but her voice was laced with the most taunting tone.

"I do _not_ care for anything involving those promiscuous courtesans performing erotic displays!" he roared, eyes narrowing in his detestation under an especially mean scowl. _WHY would she come to the conclusion that I would want to see that sort of thing? What a debaucherous girl!_

"Oh? Why not? Are you not interested in pretty women?" she pushed her bottom lip into a full pout, trying very hard to stifle any further giggles as she continued to tease him. "Or maybe you prefer monkeys, since you seemed to have an abnormal interest in that chimpanzee show..."

He snarled at this accusation of hers. _How can she even consider such a thing!_ he thought as he continued to stare icily at this woman.

His eyes landed on her bottom lip, which she still held in a pout. Of _course_ he wasn't interested in what she had suggested, especially with this intimidating female in front of him... And now he found that he could not take his eyes off her pretty mouth. He felt blood rush to his face... and to his crotch, he realized with horror.

_Surely it wouldn't do any harm if I tease him with a little flirting,_ Bulma thought, _Especially since Yamcha seems to think it's okay to run around with other women. This will make us even! _She batted her blue eyelashes playfully at Vegeta and bit her bottom lip. _Just look at him! Poor chump, probably hasn't seen such a gorgeous girl this close to him before. He can't keep his eyes off me! Well, can I really blame him? _she mused quite smugly, now brimming with tremendous confidence.

"Woman," Vegeta growled.

She tilted her head down, gazing up at him through cerulean eyes. "Yes?"

"I demand you supply me with consumable sustenance this instant!" he tossed his empty plate at her for emphasis.

Bulma sat back on her haunches and frowned, her pout twisting and displaying her clear agitation.

"Well? Get to it!" The prince barked, "That's all you're good for!"

"Do it yourself, jerk!" Bulma sauntered off, but not before kicking at the prince's empty plate.

Once he was sure she was gone, Vegeta exhaled a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of such a compromising situation.

The woman's invasiveness of his royal person made a chill run down his spine. Her presence was far too daunting for him to handle; she could be a potential distraction to his training if she kept intimidating him like this. Only his rudeness could keep her at bay, momentarily at least.

He didn't exactly enjoy her company... those pheromones of hers made his limbs and stomach feel weak, and weakness was something he would have to avoid at all costs.

He stood up and headed for his room. _Feh! Ridiculous! That woman does not make me weak!_


	2. Chapter 2

Bulma had dressed herself in her favorite nightgown, a silver-blue slip of the finest satin, and she joined Yamcha in her bed. She snuggled up to him, tracing an index finger across his bare chest. "Hey, handsome," she purred flirtatiously, hoping to instigate a romp under the covers.

Yamcha turned away from his girlfriend. "Not now, I'm exhausted."

"Yamcha," she exhaled sharply.

_Oh no. She's going to give me the bitching of a lifetime now..._ Yamcha shuddered, bracing himself for what he had long ago decided was a horror worse than hell.

The tone of her voice was no longer husky; it was confrontational and assertive. "When was the last time we had sex, let alone slept in the same bed together?"

"Uh, I dunno," he meekly replied.

But he was aware of how long it had been—several months at the least. But he didn't want to face-up to his dwindling desire for her. He did generally care for Bulma, but things just weren't the same anymore.

"Any time I try to initiate something, you push me away," Bulma began to raise her voice. "I know I'm irresistible and gorgeous, so you can't blame my appearance for your inability to put-out!"

Yamcha's voice was barely above a whisper, "Bulma... You'll wake your parents-"

"Who cares if they hear me? I basically run this house! And I think I deserve some gratitude for all I've done for you. Whose roof are you sleeping under?"

"It's... not that I'm not grateful, I'm just-"

"Yeah, I know, 'not in the mood', right?" She shook her head and sighed. "Now I really am starting to believe that you're seeing other people."

Yamcha swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump he felt crawling up his throat. He _was_ starting to prefer the company of other girls over Bulma. It was not something he actively pursued, but it was an impulsive habit that he just couldn't shake.

He'd decided to just ride it out and see what would happen. If that meant losing Bulma... well, he couldn't say he didn't see that coming. All they did now was fight and break up for a few days, then get back together. It was the same routine, and it wasn't fun anymore. He was certain she was just as tired of it as he was.

"Maybe we should take a break," Bulma said quietly, mostly to herself.

Yamcha's only response was to turn away from her and ignore her.

She tossed the blanket off and rose from her bed, throwing a robe over her shoulders and reaching for a pack of cigarettes in her drawer. "I'm gonna grab something to eat," she grumbled.

There was no response from the estranged boyfriend occupying her bed. With haste and a foul temperament Bulma marched out of her room.

* * *

It was pitch black in the compound, except for the dim light that was always left on in the kitchen in the event that someone would wander in for a midnight snack. It was nearly 11:30 as Bulma opened the refrigerator; the bright light from within made her wince. She stood there overlooking the contents of the fridge, unable to decide on anything. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

_Another disappointing night with him... _Her eyes wandered to a bottle of whiskey. She was tempted to take it, but she remembered she already had her cigarettes to help her contend with her dissatisfaction for the night. They'd help take her mind off things for a while—it always did.

With a disconcerted sigh she closed the fridge door, unable to find anything appealing to eat.

She opened a window and stood in front of it, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. Soon enough she felt relaxed and at ease. She allowed her thoughts to wander, while her free hand traveled to her collarbone, then her neck. Beneath her fingertips she felt her pulse begin to calm, and she was reminded of her mortality. This was such a vital part of the human body—just under the layers of flesh and muscle was the pounding of her heartbeat resonating through her jugular, which could so easily be punctured.

Would three years be enough to start over? Did she have enough time to move on before the androids brought terror and death? Not having answers was distressing to her.

"Woman!"

She shrieked and dropped her cigarette, its smoldering ashes falling to the ground. One hot ember landed on her foot, burning her delicate skin. She cursed at the pain searing through her flesh and stooped down to the floor.

Vegeta was brooding in a dark corner, arms folded across his broad chest. He almost laughed when he had startled the girl, but her irritatingly loud cry of pain infringed on his amusement.

Seething with anger, Bulma shot a piercing look at the Saiyan. "What do you want now? Can't you see what time it is? Certainly too late for your _sustenance_!"

"I only came in here to order you to put that revolting smoking device out, but it looks like you have already," he smirked, "And in such an amusing way."

"Why you-!" she wanted to throw some insults at him, but her foot sweltered with the distracting pain, and she could think of nothing clever to say.

Vegeta's smirk faded as he approached. It took him a few strides until he was standing just several feet from her.

He glowered down at her. "Being the unrefined and clumsy Earth-creature you are, I am not at all surprised that you have managed to burn yourself in the most idiotic, yet _entertaining_ manner possible."

"Who are you calling clumsy? As I can recall, you're the one dancing around like a jester under 400G's, blowing up the gravity capsule and landing your lousy ass in the medical ward!"

Vegeta bared his teeth, stepping closer to her threateningly. "Do not speak derisively of my training, woman. You have no place to make a mockery of what you cannot even begin to comprehend."

"I will mock whomever I like, neanderthal," she glared back at him, her chest rising and falling under her quick, exasperated breaths. Neither broke eye contact for what seemed like hours, until Bulma, defeated from the pain in her foot, tended to her burn.

"This is _your_ fault, you know," she shot at him.

"I wasn't the one smoking from that poisonous thing."

"Well, I wouldn't have dropped it if you hadn't startled me with your gruff cave-man voice!"

"And I would never have bothered coming in here if I didn't smell that abhorrent stench pouring from your mouth."

"Gee, thanks a lot," she muttered. She wasn't in the mood to fight at this moment with the pain shooting through her nerves.

Vegeta watched as she tended to her injury. He did not know why he was still standing there, observing the woman. He had only meant to yell at her about the smoke stench that his keen nose had picked up all the way from in his room. But his attention had been caught to her as he saw her standing by the window in deep thought, her moon pale hand caressing her neck. He had been completely distracted. How could such a harsh, shrewd woman exhibit such a gentle and delicate display? Those soft, ivory fingers gliding over her translucent skin… It was extremely distracting.

As he continued to watch her, he could see that her body was flushed with heat. And underneath the stench of the cigarette smoke he detected the faintest aroma, the odor of an Earthling woman at the height of estrus. Despite being of a different species, her pheromones elicited a response from him.

Carnal thoughts instinctively pervaded his mind. His hand twitched; an automatic reflex as he felt the sweat building up on his palms, his body suddenly driven with desire. Irritated, he tried to push his lecherous thoughts from his mind. The thought of giving in to primeval desires utterly sickened him, so much so that when the urges inevitably sprung up every once in a while (and they'd been more frequent since his stay at Capsule Corp) he was accustomed to suppressing them quickly.

Then he detected something else, a different smell coming from her skin. No, it was not the burned flesh of her foot, but-

It was the unmistakable stench of the scar-faced weakling. That's right—Vegeta suddenly remembered—she was bound to that weakling, they were 'in a relationship', as these Earthlings put it. A feeling of disgust made its way into the pit of Vegeta's stomach.

How was it that Goku had allowed that screeching banshee of a woman, Chi-Chi, to become his wife? The answer eluded Vegeta. The woman was an annoying thing at best. But then again, Goku had spent his entire life on Earth, he hadn't even known that he was in truth an extraterrestrial. He thought he was one of them, so it would only seem natural for him to choose an Earthling woman to be his companion.

"Don't you need to get some sleep, bud?" Bulma tapped Vegeta's shoulder with her lighter, breaking him out of his daze.

He frowned, and then glared at the female. His nose wrinkled with discomfort. She was in his face once again, and the smell of her pheromones engulfed and surrounded him entirely, overtaking his sense of smell. Swiftly his hand shot up to his face and he pinched his nostrils shut between his thumb and index finger.

Feeling insulted at his gesture, Bulma stepped even closer, "_What?_ Do you think I smell bad or something?"

"Yes, absolutely," he muttered darkly. It was a lie; her scent was not bad at all... it was simply _too_ alluring. The smell of such a fertile woman sent blood rushing through his veins, and he felt himself teetering over the edge of control. But the Earthling was uncharted territory that he would not allow himself to explore. Lowering himself to their level… _Kakarot's_ level… he _could_ not!

"Obviously you're not used to the smell of a woman," Bulma retorted. "Well, you'd better shove-off and go to your room, then." She turned and walked away from him, "Wouldn't want to push any part of your Saiyan body over the limit, including that pointy little nose, now would you?"

"_Pointy?_" he growled, his upper lip twitching just slightly in his annoyance. But she was gone.

* * *

Having retreated to his private quarters, Vegeta washed his face in the sink of his bathroom, and then looked up at the mirror above the faucet; he observed his features in his reflection, holding his jaw steady in his hand. _How dare that wench mock me!_ he angrily thought as his fingers tightened around his chin. Then he glanced down and noticed that his other hand had involuntarily balled into a fist.

Grumbling, he forced himself to relax, and he scowled back at his reflection. Rarely did anyone comment on his appearance, especially when they were about to be blasted into another dimension.

However... the Earth woman was the first person in years, maybe decades, to point out that he was "kind of cute," as she had put it, likening him to something she thought of as endearing. As soon as he felt a shamed blush creep up on his cheeks at the memory, he struggled to push those thoughts from his mind; a battle he continually fought, it seemed.

He was always fighting something. A physical battle, a verbal spar with his enemies to warm up for said battle... or an internal war with his conflicting thoughts of the screaming harpy, and his ponderings of how she might look when disrobed.

_Get out of my head, vermin!_ he cursed immediately as he realized he was fantasizing about her. That wench, always invading his mind with some sort of witchcraft, he concluded. How dare she make his body react in such a strange way, making him blush, and stirring a bizarre sensation in his gut and _elsewhere, _god forbid_._ She should not be occupying his thoughts!

Then he wondered if the woman ever spared a moment to think about him in such a way... It wouldn't surprise him, she was so foul and perverted.

Vegeta turned the bathroom light off, permanently, with a ki blast and headed for his bed.

* * *

The overcast weather accompanying late October in West City sent clouds that blocked the sun entirely. A cool breeze had picked up, and it seemed it was about to rain any minute.

Vegeta was on his 3,000th one-fingered push up under 475 times Earth's gravity. He wasn't counting, though. He was pushing himself to continue until his body could not take it anymore, until he would collapse. And this was intended to be just a warm-up for the day's training.

Outside, Yamcha was packing a few bags filled with his personal belongings into his car. He had some spare clothes, food, grooming materials to keep up his appearance for the ladies...

"Need some help?" Bulma walked across the lawn toward Yamcha, her blue curls bouncing with every footstep. She wore a gray long-sleeved shirt that hugged her form and was tucked into her jeans.

Yamcha hadn't expected her to come outside just this moment. He was caught off guard.

"What's in there?" Bulma eyed the duffel bag in his arms.

"Oh, this? Just some stuff to help me out with my training." Yamcha tossed the bag onto the back seat of his car.

Bulma groaned. "Oh I swear, you men are fighting junkies! I don't see why you have to go on some training journey. Dad could just make a capsule formatted with a gravity simulator for you."

"That's uh... okay, but I don't want one. Besides, I don't want to train the same way Vegeta does," Yamcha eyed the capsule on the other side of the lawn.

"I guess I don't blame you," Bulma laughed. "You know, the other night Vegeta approached me and he told me I smell bad. Can you believe it? The nerve of that thick-headed ape!"

"You _don't_ smell bad," Yamcha chuckled. "Well, except whenever you smoke. I don't see how you could enjoy that."

"Oh? And what about you? Mister 'I-don't-drink-except-on-the-holidays'," she retorted.

Cue the awkward moment of silence.

Yamcha shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Bulma looked up at his suspiciously. "What's up? Got something to fess up to?" she cocked a blue eyebrow.

As a matter of fact, he did, but he felt now was not the appropriate time for it. He could see the anger escalating in Bulma's eyes, and experience had taught him well that it was best to back down and stay quiet when she was pissed.

Bulma sighed, relaxing her tense shoulders, and she slid her arms up and around Yamcha's neck. "You're hopeless, but I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah... I'm going to miss you too…" Yamcha muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon.

"What's wrong? Is something on your mind?" Bulma asked.

He could tell her how he felt—about his uncertainty concerning their botched relationship. But he chose to avoid the topic.

"Uh... I was just worried that maybe Vegeta will try to hit on you while I'm gone," Yamcha joked. "Y'know, 'cause he's afraid to try anything while I'm around. He knows I'd beat him up!" He scratched the back of his head and laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Bulma fumed, "That prude is totally in love with himself. He probably doesn't even know what a naked woman looks like!"

"He'd probably kill any girl who tried hitting on him," he eyed her warily.

Bulma's face was marked with agitation.

"Just promise me you'll be careful around him," Yamcha gave her a half-hearted hug. "I forgave him for what he's done in the past, but that doesn't mean you should let your guard down around him. He's still unpredictable."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Oh don't worry about him. That midget knows his place. He'll cower down like a scared puppy if he even tries to incite _my_ wrath."

Yamcha wasn't sure if he should laugh as he envisioned Vegeta on all fours like a dog. The thought was more disturbing than anything else. "Thanks a lot for that mental image…"

They both laughed, and Yamcha walked over to the driver's side of the car and got in. Just in time, Puar floated over to them from the Capsule Corp mansion. "Bulma!" she chirped, "Your father is asking for you!"

Puar crash-landed in the back seat of Yamcha's car, right on top of his duffel bag, and its contents went flying everywhere in the back of the car.

Yamcha groaned, "Puar, don't get too excited already."

His voice was cut off when he caught Bulma's suddenly dark eyes scanning the back seat. She strode over to the car and snatched something out of the bag.

She held up what was unmistakably a box of condoms, her other hand placed sharply on her hip.

"And just _what_ is this atrocious thing doing in your bag?" she struggled to level the rage building in her voice.

Yamcha didn't answer; his jaw was unhinged and immobile.

"Answer me!"

"Oh, um, I was just bringing these with me, since we won't be using them anymore…"

Though truthful, that answer only seemed to add salt to Bulma's wounds, so Yamcha quickly recanted with a joke in poor taste, "Or, y'know, in case Puar meets some young man she likes and wants to transfigure into a woman to-"

"Yamcha!" Puar squealed, horrified by her master's betrayal.

"Don't blame this on your cat!" Bulma screamed.

Yamcha turned the ignition on and floored it, speeding out of the driveway.

Bulma shrieked a series of profanities after him, but in vain; he'd made his escape.

Yamcha wiped sweat off his forehead as his car rounded a corner, finally a safe distance from the frightening woman. "Whew... That was a close one!" he almost laughed in his relief.

"Yamcha, you're terrible!" Puar nearly hissed.

"Look, just forget about it, Puar," Yamcha explained. "She and I just need some time apart."

Puar shook her head from side to side. She had a feeling this would not end well for her master.

* * *

"I am _not_ surprised... I am NOT!" Bulma ground her teeth furiously, attempting to calm herself. "This was bound to happen. I should have known!"

She stormed back into the Capsule Corp building to see what her father could possibly want with her. Her patience was wearing thin, and she was hoping her father would not ask her to repair any bots or come up with some blueprints. She was far from being in a good enough mood to mull over some mechanical work and formulas.

"Hey, kiddo," Dr. Briefs looked up from his mug of coffee and waved to his approaching daughter. As he squinted through his glasses, he could see that she was stalking across the room like an angry lioness that had cornered her prey.

"Can it!" Bulma roared, "What do you need?"

He was taken aback at his daughter's abrasive attitude. "Er... well... I've been monitoring the gravity simulation in Capsule 3 for a while now, and the generator seems to be outputting quite a bit of power for-"

"And I should care, _why_?"

"Right. Well, you see, I saw the weather forecast for today. We seem to be expecting heavy showers with a good possibility of a thunderstorm-"

Just then, the sound of a clap of thunder was heard in the distance. Bulma's eyes widened with horror as the sudden realization hit her.

"You don't suppose Vegeta is aware of the danger of running the gravity simulator during a thunderstorm?" the doctor prompted.

She was already sprinting out the front door, in her head cursing, _That idiot! I've warned him a million times!_

She stepped outside and stopped in her tracks as her face was pelted with rain. The sky was appropriately ominous and foreboding.

Not wanting to get her delicate curls wet, she retreated back inside and grabbed an umbrella from the nearest closet, and she pawed through coats and jackets, searching for her raincoat.

Another clap of thunder sounded, and an explosive boom shook the house. The indoor lights dimmed and flickered for a few seconds, then everything went black as the sound of the house's main power generator shutting off was distinctly heard. The only light source now was from the faint blue-gray hue outside. Bulma felt as if her heart had stopped. She had fallen to the floor and only now shakily regained her composure, forcing herself to rise on wobbly knees.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my!" Bulma's mother came stumbling through the room nervously, her arms flailing as if she were wading in the pool.

Another reverberating boom rang through Bulma's ears. For a second the house was lit by the single bolt of lightning from outside. There was a horrible crackling sound. Something had been hit. Bulma's face was draped in terror.

She once again lunged for the door, forgetting the umbrella and raincoat entirely.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Bunny is generally recognized as the name of Bulma's mother (I've also seen her referred to as Pansy, but I think the former is more popular in this fandom).

* * *

Bulma dashed across the lawn, nearly skidding across the slick wet grass. It had been only a few seconds since she had come running out into the rain, and she was already soaked. Her worst fear was confirmed—Capsule 3 was toppled over and had huge cracks splitting all along its surface.

In her haste, she slipped and fell on her rear end on the wet ground. She yelped and cursed, but she forgot her pain as she got back on her feet to assess the situation.

_Not again. I hope that idiot's okay!_

She cried out in shock as the door to the capsule opened. Vegeta limped out with one hand clutching his abdomen. He did not notice her at first; he was having a hard time focusing on his surroundings as he stumbled across the lawn.

"Vegeta, what happened? Oh," she noticed blood seeping between his fingers. "Okay, we need to get you inside _right now_," she demanded.

"I'm _fine_, you stupid woman..." he forced the words out in a weak growl. He couldn't even tell which direction her voice was coming from.

He toppled over, almost falling on top of her. She barely caught him by the shoulders just before he could hit the ground. Bulma struggled to upright him, but his body went limp and he sank to his knees.

Bunny came racing toward them, carrying three umbrellas in tow. "Oh, Bulma! What happened to him?" she cried out, her voice almost muted out by the chorus of heavy raindrops hitting the Capsule Corp mansion behind her.

Bulma noticed her mother approaching and shouted, "Mom! Get dad out here, quick!"

* * *

Vegeta awoke to the feeling of a prick in his forearm. He grimaced in pain as his vision gradually came into focus. He saw that he was once again inside the treatment room. The woman, her father, and her mother were circled around him, their faces pressed uncomfortably close. Through the window to his left he could see that the storm outside had not let up, and had only intensified. The wind had even picked up, violently pelting the heavy raindrops against the window.

"Good thing I managed to get the backup power generator running or I'd be having a bit more difficulty locating the peripheral vein," Dr. Briefs mumbled.

_What is that old fool muttering about? _Vegeta thought. He saw that he was hooked up to a crude life-support system of some sort. And Dr. Briefs was sticking an I.V. needle into the Saiyan prince's arm.

He growled and lifted himself up by his elbows, startling everyone in the vicinity. "Leave me! I don't need to make use of your planet's underdeveloped medical equipment-" a searing pain hit his gut and he fell back against the bed.

"Don't move yet! Do you even know how gravely you've been injured?" Dr. Briefs tsk-ed, "You're incredibly lucky to be alive at all."

"And incredibly stupid!" Bulma added, "Didn't you know any better than to train in the capsule in this weather? I told you before! _Don't_ train in there when the weather's bad! I mean _really_, do you have any common sense?"

Vegeta said nothing. He closed his eyes and winced, both in pain and in annoyance at their voices.

"Bulma, hush! Your remarks are hurting his feelings!" Mrs. Briefs leaned closer to Vegeta, "I'll take a trip to the bakery later to pick out some delicious cakes especially for you, dear sweet prince," she cooed. Vegeta visibly cringed.

"Mother!" Bulma all but shouted.

"Be sure to recover as soon as you can. The cakes will be waiting for you!" Bunny giggled as she left the room.

Bulma shook her head from side-to-side, pinching her brow as she felt a migraine coming.

Dr. Briefs chuckled, "That's Bunny for you, lifting everyone's spirits with the promise of sweets and pastries."

"Cakes don't heal mortifying injuries, dad."

"Hmm... right. Well then," Dr. Briefs stood up. "I've got a lot of work to do, so, Bulma, can you finish tending to Vegeta's wounds?"

Bulma only groaned in response.

Her father smiled. "Oh, you don't need to get upset, dear, after all, you two finally have some alone time now."

"_Dad!_ Not you, too!"

Dr. Briefs left the room, chuckling through his mustache.

_Now I know where this woman's loud-mouth came from,_ Vegeta thought, somewhat annoyed. His eyes were still closed and he pretended he had not overheard their conversation. _It seems vulgarity runs in the woman's family..._

"You awake there, Vegeta?" Bulma said, attempting a somewhat soft tone to her voice.

He grunted, vocalizing his displeasure.

"I take it that ape-like sound you just made indicates a 'yes'," she said.

Vegeta could hear her shifting around, grabbing for some sort of medical supplies. He wanted to open an eye to be sure she wouldn't stab some more needles into his arm, but he decided his curiosity was unnecessary, for if the woman knew what was good for her she wouldn't dare.

Bulma opened a bottle containing an antibiotic liquid. She soaked a towel with the fluid. "Now stay still a moment," she said in her most soothing voice possible, "I'm going to apply some antibiotics to your wounds. This will sting."

She leaned over and dabbed the wet cloth onto the wound on his abdomen. Vegeta's eyes snapped opened and he tensed as the sting of the antibiotics shot through his nerves. He growled, "Damn it, woman! I can do that myself!" He raised his needle-clad arm out toward Bulma, but she held the damp towel out of his reach.

"If you address me by my name, I'll give it to you!"

"_Woman_," another growl ripped through his throat, this one more ferocious than before.

_Either way, he has to admit his defeat, _Bulma smiled wickedly. "C'mon, it's not so hard. Say my name, or suffer in silence as I treat those injuries myself."

Vegeta realized he was in a position where his pride would be wounded no matter the option. He grabbed the I.V. tube and yanked the needle out of his arm.

Bulma gasped. "Hey! What do you think you're doing_?_!"

He struggled to upright himself, but in an instant the pain returned, much worse than before now that he was overexerting himself. Groaning, he crumpled back against the bed sheets.

Bulma sighed and shook her head. "Look, Vegeta. You can drop the tough-guy act now."

"Do me a favor... and just shut up..." he muttered. Simply speaking to her was sapping at his remaining strength.

"I understand that you want to impress everybody—strutting around and showing off how strong you are—but you don't need to keep that arrogant attitude up in front of me," the heiress consoled, "I really don't mind if you show a little weakness. I won't tell anyone."

Vegeta didn't say anything, but his eyes were wide open now, and he was scowling at Bulma in disbelief, almost horror. _How can she have the nerve to even consider that I am weak? And to say this to my face?_! If it weren't for the pain stopping him he would allow his rage to curdle over.

"Besides," Bulma continued, staring out the window as she spoke freely, "You're probably the strongest player we've got against those androids. I know you could just blow up the entire planet right now and prevent them from ever seeing the light of day, but instead you want to stick around and have a crack at defeating them. Even though you're being reckless, I admire your determination."

He carefully took in the words she spoke. Never had anyone flattered him quite in this way before, and without the intent of mocking him. This was not just some careless praise she was throwing at him.

His eyes darted away from her. "Just be quiet and finish what you need to do." He thrust his arm toward her so she could replace the needle he had ripped out.

"Oh. Alright." Bulma blinked in surprise. Had he really just given in without throwing one of his legendary tantrums? She felt the urge to giggle, but she didn't want to riskspoiling his rare permissiveness. _Perhaps I should consider praising him more often. He's sorta cute when he's flustered like this..._

Vegeta stared at the torrential downpour outside as Bulma continued with her work, applying more antibiotics and then bandaging the wounds. As she was nearing completion, she demurely gazed up from what she was doing, inspecting Vegeta's face. He seemed to be deep in thought, his eyes concentrating on something unseen in the distance through the bleak rainfall. She studied his facial features. It was rare that she got to be this close to him, and she wanted to enjoy the view while she could.

_He is kinda handsome, certainly living up to his title as a prince. Though he is definitely not your run-of-the-mill prince charming, that's for sure, _she thought. She almost guffawed as she wondered next,_ If I kiss him, would he transform from this angry caveman and into a gentleman?_ She was tempted to try it—she'd always wanted a make-believe prince from her fairy tales.

Vegeta felt that she had ceased her work. He glanced at her to see if she was done only to catch her gazing at him.

"_Woman,_" he quickly spat out.

"Huh? Yeah?" she snapped out of her daydream.

"Are you finished yet?" he said gruffly.

"Oh... no. Sorry, I must have spaced-out a little..."

"A trait you share with your mother."

"I only inherited her good-looks, thank you very much," Bulma frowned and picked up where she left off with her work.

This time Vegeta kept his eyes on her, observing her handiwork. Her fingers moved quickly and with expert precision, swiftly bandaging his scarred flesh faster than he would be able to.

_She must've had experience doing this before, _Vegeta thought, _Ah. Of course. The scar-faced whelp and Kakarot. She must have tended to their injuries as well._ He almost growled at the realization. _Those pathetic runts do not deserve to receive this sort of treatment._

Slowly his eyes moved up to her face. He noted that she certainly had inherited the ditzy blonde housewife's stunning features. And she was leagues more intelligent—though she seemed to be incredibly vulgar, he suspected Bulma was very clever. But these were musings he would not allow himself to speak out loud. He was not a fan of casual small-talk, anyway...

Suddenly Oolong burst through the door, carrying a pink box of doughnuts under a chubby arm.

Vegeta's eyes went dark with hatred and blood-lust, and Bulma turned around to face her visitor. "Oolong? I didn't know you were here."

"Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd stop by to get out of the rain," the pig said, snatching a sugar coated pastry. "And to get some doughnuts from your mom."

Oolong tried not to notice Vegeta's malevolent glare directed at him, but the pig felt a shiver run through his spine, "And... uh, I was wondering if you still have my capsule that I asked you to keep an eye on."

"Yeah, I still have it; in fact I have my box of capsules on me right now." A sly grin played on Bulma's lips, "Why'd you need me to look after it, anyway? Got some dirty magazines that you don't want the old turtle guy to steal?"

"Eheh heh... What makes you think that?" Oolong began to sweat. _Yeah, something like that..._

Bulma reached into her pocket, retrieving the small container that held her capsules. She retrieved Oolong's, but it slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor, landing on the cap. It made a clicking sound, indicating that it had been activated. Oolong went pale.

"Oops... Stand back," Bulma stood up and moved several few feet away.

The capsule exploded. A variety of women's' undergarments went flying everywhere. Panties, bras, corsets, pantyhose, thongs, swimsuits... A multitude of colors, shapes, and patterns. The motherload. It was Oolong's sprawling prized collection.

"_OOLONG!_"

Bulma snatched up one particularly frilly pair of panties. She'd recognized it. It was _hers_. It had gone missing several months prior. "What is _this_ doing here? This was_ mine_!"

All the color drained from Oolong's face. He'd forgotten that he'd left the pair of panties he stole from her in the capsule.

Bulma sprung up and charged toward the pig, chasing him around the room and screaming profanities. Oolong squealed and picked up the undergarments as he darted about frantically to escape her tirade of fury. Finally after grabbing every piece from his collection (except Bulma's) he bolted out the door.

"Don't ask for any favors again, you dirty swine!" she yelled after the retreating pig.

Bulma looked back apologetically at Vegeta, who was now sitting upright in the bed, his back rigid. His jaw was clamped shut and his eyes were wide with shock. He could not believe what he had just witnessed.

His eyes drifted over to the panties in Bulma's hand, and he stared at the undergarment with horror. The waistband was lined with little pink frills.

Bulma realized she was still clutching her pair of panties. Blushing, she tossed it into a nearby disposal bin with a small built-in incinerator, which expediently burned the panties to a crisp. "I'm not going to wear that ever again, not after that filthy little bastard touched it!" she proclaimed. She did not even want to think about what Oolong may have done with her panties while they had been in his possession. "I swear, one of these days I am going to roast that stinking pig alive!"

Vegeta did not overlook her malicious comment. How coincidental that he had considered the very same thing himself just days before. He almost smirked. The woman had some sense to her, at least.

Bulma strode over to his bedside to resume her work. "Hey, there's a cut on your face. I must have overlooked it."

When she leaned close to him, Vegeta felt a shudder ripple through his muscles. He hated how she caused this involuntary reaction in his body.

"I only missed that cut on your cheek because you had your head tilted away from me, and I didn't see it until now. You should know better than to look away from a lady when she is speaking to you!" She again leaned over to his face, holding the towel out, "Here, I need you to tilt your head down a bit."

He grunted, but complied, slowly lowering his head. He could feel her soft breath caressing his neck. Her proximity made him uneasy.

"Now hold still," her tongue rested on her top lip as she concentrated deeply. She dabbed the towel on the cut on his cheek. With her free hand she reached out and cradled his chin for more leverage.

"Idiot! What are you doing!" Vegeta cried out, trying to cover for his shock.

"_You_ are the idiot," she fumed, "What do you _think_ I'm doing?"

"Trying to bewitch me, or claw at my face," he glared up at her. "Or both, if that's the sort of sadistic thing you're into."

"Calling _me_ a sadist, huh? Takes one to know one," Bulma huffed and ignored Vegeta's obvious discomfort at having a lady's hand resting on his face. Just to be extra mean, she tightened her fingers around his jaw. Through her fingertips she felt him swallow nervously. "Just relax, you dope! If my hand wasn't keeping you stabilized, the slightest jerk of your head would risk me getting the antibiotics in your eye. You wouldn't want to ruin your eyesight, now do you?"

"You stupid Earthlings. If your technology was more advanced, I could be isolated in a healing chamber and not have to put up with this intolerable mistreatment!"

"Humor me and at least pretend you're grateful," she said dryly. "You should consider yourself lucky. Do you know how many guys would kill to have _me_, famed and reputable as I am, and such an incredibly hot babe to boot, tending to their wounds?"

"The only thing you are is an unsightly and insufferable wench."

Bulma pressed the towel down on his wound, quite hard. He winced.

She harrumphed, "I don't need nor do I desire your confirmation that I'm drop-dead gorgeous."

"Drop-dead? I wish you would." A contemptuous smirk grew on his face.

Bulma pursed her lip. _S_he put the towel down and reached into a box of medical supplies for gauze and a bandage. "Oh yeah? Well it seems you're the one with a death wish. That bolt of lightning nearly killed you."

"Was that your doing then?" he growled, "Using your Earthling witchcraft to maim me and put a hold to my training?"

"Witchcraft? C'mon. No matter how rude or annoying you are, I wouldn't dream of hurting you."

She peeled the bandage from its wrapping and smoothed it over his wound with her fingers. She leaned back to observe her handiwork.

"Mm-hmm, looking good, if I do say so myself... now," she tilted her head close to him and winked, "Since you've been such a good boy, I think you deserve a kiss on the cheek, to make your boo-boo all better."

"_What?_!You'll do no such thing!"

"Come on, _darling_ little prince, it'll only be a peck!" she craned her neck out toward him.

Instinct told him to snatch her throat; this was the perfect opportunity to strangle the life out of this insolent creature and end her incessant chattering tirade once and for all. But he did not move a muscle.

"So, may I kiss your owchie?" she raised an eyebrow inquisitively, "I promise it will heal ten times faster."

He almost wanted to believe her. Such a thing meant nothing to him, but if an Earthling kiss could heal injuries, it would be worth the shame he'd have to face by enduring it.

He wondered, maybe having a human's lips brush against a wound helped to heal the injury much more quickly? These humans were so pathetically weak; they had to have developed _some_ sort of special skill or technique to make up for their lack of physical strength, the only compensation for their utter fragility. Vegeta had seen stranger techniques across the many galaxies he'd crossed, psychic powers in some alien races, the ability to read minds or predict the future in others. A human kiss with healing powers would not surprise him. She did say the wound would heal ten times faster, unless she was bluffing.

And it would prove incredibly useful if that was all it took to be healed.

Instead he mumbled, "You may _N-_"

Just as he was about to finish with 'not', her lips swiftly pecked him on his jawline—not anywhere near his cut.

He roared with fury.

"My, what a temper!" Bulma stood up and laughed.

"WOMAN!"

"Hmm? What, are you upset because you were expecting me to give you a deep kiss on your mouth, tongue included?"

He went speechless. He couldn't believe the audacity of this woman!

He managed to compose himself quickly enough to command her to leave, then he laid back down on the bed and turned away from her, attempting to overlook her existence. The pain searing through his wounds told him he had no more time for nonsense, and he needed his rest. The sooner he could recuperate, the sooner he could resume his training. He convinced himself he would rest until the damn storm blew over, hoping that would happen later that day, but on this cursed planet he knew luck wouldn't be on his side.

"If you need anything, just yell for me like you always do. I'll be around," Bulma turned and headed out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Bulma found her mother bustling away in the kitchen, preparing a meal for their wounded houseguest.

"So, how is that lovely young man doing?" Bunny asked her daughter.

"Fine, I guess. He's just as crabby as ever."

"Did you two enjoy your alone time?"

"Mom!" Bulma screeched, "Enough!"

"Oh, but I think it's so wonderful! He is just perfect for you, dear!" She stopped chopping a stock of celery to cup her face. Romanticized thoughts filled her head as she mused aloud, "Of course, if you don't want the man, I'll be more than happy to take him off your hands!"

"First Goku, and now Vegeta. Unbelievable!" Bulma scorned. "I guess there's just something about those Saiyans that you can't resist."

"So you agree that those men are just so _gorgeous_?" Bunny sighed amorously.

"Yeah, sure. But Goku has the mentality of a toddler, and Vegeta... well, let me put it nicely… he can be a real ass."

"Yes... he certainly does have a nice ass!"

"Quit it!"

Bunny merely giggled and carried on with chopping at a bundle of green onions.

Bulma looked out the window. The storm still had not ceased even a bit.

_I'll bet Yamcha's having a blast right now..._ _ Ugh. I just hope I can find someone better…_

Her scowling houseguest crossed her thoughts as a potential candidate. Bulma was almost startled to consider him, but she shrugged it off and blamed her cougar-mother's prowling having an influence over her. She almost laughed aloud. _Vegeta? Come on, think realistically, Bulma! He's not even human, he KILLED people. And don't forget he can transform into king-kong. Think of what the sex would be like. Borderline bestiality. Ick!_

Though, without shame, she wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. Probably like being tossed around like a rag-doll, she assumed. The very thought sent a chill down her spine, but stirred something in her, a desire which had lain dormant for so many years—the desire for a lone, brooding, and dangerous man. She couldn't deny that handsome bad boys were exactly her type, especially if they were off limits.

Bulma forced herself to cease her lascivious train of thought to glance up at a clock hanging on the wall. It read 2:41 pm.

_Well, it's been a few hours since the jerk sped off... I guess it's safe to give him a call..._

* * *

Yamcha was at his favorite fitness center, lifting a set of weights when his feline companion hovered over to him, carrying his ringing cellphone in her paws. He took it, glancing at the screen to see that it was Bulma who was calling him.

He felt a pang of fear in his gut. He was tempted to ignore the call, but he wanted to at the very least hear her message. He knew he'd have to hear her complaints eventually, anyway. Better to prepare for the executioner's axe now...

"I don't think you should avoid her, Yamcha," Puar suggested.

"Yeah, I know," Yamcha sighed. "This _is_ partly my fault. But I don't know if I can face her right now."

Its ring going unanswered, Yamcha's phone played his answering machine drone, _'I'm not here right now, so leave a message after the beep-'_

"-so just stop eavesdropping, mom! Jeez!" Through the receiver Bulma could be heard yelling at someone in the background, followed by a loud shuffling sound accompanied by the abrupt slamming of a door. "_Finally_, some privacy! Okay then… Yamcha, I know you're listening right now, so pick up! You can't hide behind your answering machine forever!"

Yamcha's face went pallid. _Damn, she knows!_ He knew that if he didn't talk to her sooner or later, she would hunt him down to the ends of the Earth. Slowly he built up his courage and accepted the call.

"Uh... Hey, Bulma."

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. Yamcha knew what that meant. It was the silence before the storm.

"_Yamcha!_"

"...uh-huh?" he whimpered.

"First of all, how could you come up with the 'training journey' excuse to cheat on me! Do you take me for some kind of idiot? I _knew_-"

"I really _am_ training!" he defended. "And it's not what you think! I didn't-"

"Don't interrupt me. Now, as I was saying —" she went silent for a moment, trying to control her escalating blood pressure. _Why do I even need to argue with him anymore? _she thought, _It's useless. I called to break-up with him, not punish him._

She spoke in a level tone, "Yamcha, I'm done."

"What do you mean? You want to go on a break for a while?"

"Not '_for a while_', not this time, buddy. You've got major commitment issues, and I'm sick of hearing about you running around with other girls behind my back! And right now, for what just might be the last three years of my life, I have more important things to worry about."

"Bulma-"

She snapped her cellphone shut, hanging up on him.

Bulma leaned against the chest of drawers in her room as she hurled her cellphone onto her bed. She sighed, knowing she could have handled the conversation better. But she didn't want to waste any more time waxing nostalgia over her failed relationship.

_Takes care of that. Man, what a waste... All those years I spent crying over that playboy! _She sighed. _I can't believe I was such a fool._

She felt a sting of regret as she reminisced on their relationship. Yamcha had generally been a nice guy throughout the time they'd been together, and he hadn't treated her too badly... until recent years, that is, when he'd started evading her and hanging around with any girl who showed interest in him.

And he just didn't fill her stomach with butterflies anymore. Or had he ever in the first place? Sure he was a charming, charismatic man, but did she ever feel weak in the knees around him?

"So, did you dump him?" Bulma's mother was peeking through the door.

"Mom!"Bulma felt a growl building in her vocal chords. "How many times have I told you not to listen in on my _private_ conversations?"

"This won't be the first time you fickle lovebirds have broken up!" Bunny laughed. "Don't worry, dear. Tomorrow, I'm sure you two will patch things up for-"

"No way! It's _over_, forever!"

Bunny was about to comment, but she was cut off by the sound of a monstrous roar reverberating through the mansion.

"That sounds like Vegeta!" Bunny squealed anxiously, "I wonder what's wrong?"

"Oh, him. Don't worry, he's just throwing a little temper-tantrum," Bulma smirked devilishly, quickly forgetting her pent-up frustrations against Yamcha. "I'll go check on him," she said as she headed out of her room.

Bulma could hear him yelling profanities before she entered the infirmary. Vegeta was still in his bed, but he greeted her with a very dark scowl.

"Woman! What is the meaning of this?" He had peeled the band-aid off his face and held it out at arm's length for her to see.

"It's a band-aid," Bulma pursed her lip, trying to stifle her building laughter.

"I can see that! What is this ridiculous, shame-bearing design plastered all over it?"

A snort escaped from between Bulma's lips.

"What is this mutant on the bandage? How is it supposed to help my wound heal?"

"It's Hello Kitty. Sure, she's totally useless at healing wounds, but she brings joy to your heart—She heals you on the _inside_, Vegeta. I thought _you_ of all people would need her joy!"

Snickering, Bulma walked over to a medicine cabinet and snatched a box of band-aids, holding the cardboard container up for Vegeta to see. The box was pink in color, and the bandages inside were a very unsettling pink too, and all had Hello Kitty pictures on them, as well as symbols such as hearts, flowers, stars, and rainbows.

The prince was greatly annoyed and disgusted. "I will not tolerate being defaced by this repugnant Hello Kitty creature!" He incinerated what remained of the bandage, muttering "Goodbye, fiend."

Bulma erupted into a fit of laughter.

"Don't you mock me! Did you think you could trick me into wearing that? The Prince of all Saiyans does not tolerate such impudent behavior!" He painfully rose out of bed and stumbled over to Bulma, a dark glower on his face.

He was only a few steps away from reaching her when he felt a tug at the needle in his arm. The line had gone taut; he wouldn't be able to move any further without removing the I.V.

As his fingers scrabbled for the needle, Bulma marched over to him, stopping only a few inches from him and provoking him with "Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?"

Vegeta stiffened when she approached, but he quickly regained his composure. "Insulting me is punishable by death."

"Yeah? And who else is going to look after you? You _need _me."

He could have closed his fingers around that delicate throat. He'd killed nearly all who had tarnished his pride or spoken ill of him. But laying a finger on this woman, with her uncanny able to get a rise out of him with her words alone, would make him look impulsive and easily beaten in a verbal spar.

Though she got on his nerves, exchanging quips and cutting remarks with her was an entertaining battle. And he was curious to see how long she could last against his retorts.

He stood there instead, trying his hardest to scowl her down.

Bulma inhaled sharply and held her breath in. _What is he doing? Surely he's not going to try to kiss me or anything? Finally can't resist, eh?_ She was smug with her thoughts, but she had her doubts. _No. This is Vegeta we're talking about. What if he really is going to kill me? _

He saw the short pang of fear cross her in the way she tensed. He almost smirked; yet another battle he'd prevailed in.

He spun around and retreated to his bed. He sat down on the mattress, hunching over and resting his forearms on his thighs. "I demand you bring me sustenance."

Bulma folded her arms across her chest—though it had wavered for a moment, her authority had returned and her tone was opposing once more. "Is food the only thing on your mind? Well anyway, as it so happens I _was_ working on it, until you interrupted me with that barbaric he-man yell."

"No, you were wasting your breath on worthless matters," Vegeta leered at her, "Like that scar-faced whelp."

"You... Did you overhear me talking with him?" Bulma sputtered, incredulous.

"Unfortunately, I could hear you all the way from this room, since you were shrieking so loudly."

"I wasn't _shrieking_," she hissed at him. Then she sighed and strolled over to the bed. "So, you know I'm done with Yamcha, then?"

She sat down on the mattress next to the Saiyan. His body stiffened yet again, and he cursed under his breath. He'd withdrawn from her to avoid murdering her, yet she was continually invading his personal space.

Bulma stared at the ceiling and traced a finger over her lips, as if she were deep in thought. "You do realize I'm a single woman now?"

"Yes, single-minded," Vegeta muttered. "What importance is this to me?"

"Oh, I don't know, I thought that maybe you would take this as the perfect opportunity to ask me out on a date before anyone else might try to steal me away."

He frowned. "A date? Do you mean for an execution?" If it was, he might take her up on her offer.

"What? You mean you don't know? How do you Saiyans court your women?"

"Oh, so that's it. A courtship ritual for plebeians. What a complete waste of time."

"It is _not_ a waste. It's fun to hang out with someone you're interested in and find out what you have in common," she explained.

"Disgusting creature. No sane person would be interested in courting _you_. And I regrettably know enough about you already, woman."

"Oh really? Do you even know my name?"

He wasn't about to speak her name. 'Woman' was a good enough title for her. He remained silent, scowling at the floor and wishing she would leave him in peace.

"I rest my case," Bulma beamed triumphantly.

"You seem to have an absurd affinity for those _disgusting_ red berries," he countered.

She was a bit surprised that he had evidently remembered that. "Huh. Apparently your tiny brain is capable of remembering _something_, at least. But you know, now that you mention it, I've been wanting to get you to try a strawberry."

"Absolutely not. The odor of those things alone is enough to repel me." He hated the smell of strawberries almost as much as he hated Goku, even.

Bulma laughed at him. "You can't be serious. Strawberries smell really good! Your nose has to be busted if you think otherwise. Or maybe you're just not used to nice-smelling things; I wouldn't be surprised, since you reek like a sweaty little man who's never heard of a bath. And I'll bet you run around eating the raw, stinking flesh of your enemies all the time."

"How about I roast you alive and eat _your_ flesh, then?"

Bulma lowered her eyelids, an evil, lascivious smirk crossing her lips. "Oh, I'll let you 'eat me', all right..."

He didn't catch on. Why was she suddenly so smug?

She sighed. "Oh honestly! Do you even know what sexual innuendo is?"

_Is that what she's implying?_ He ground his teeth. _Of course. What a lecherous girl! And now with this offering of hers to let me 'eat' her? _

Soon he realized what she meant. He nearly leapt back as he yelled in astonishment and horror, "You _vulgar woman_!"

Bulma's sides hurt from her hysterical laughter. She fell against the mattress, rolling around in a frenzy of amusement.

He watched her writhing about at his side. He scowled down at her darkly, considering what fate he would deal her.

Bulma ceased her laughter and sat back up, wiping away a tear. "Sorry Vegeta. Not on the first date, not even for you."

He frowned. "What are you insinuating?"

"C'mon," she crossed one leg over the other, propping her elbows up on her knee and cupping her face in her hands, "Why don't we just talk? Get to know each other a little?"

He swallowed hard. _What the hell is she doing? _He was dumbfounded. _Perhaps she has some kind of ulterior motive, trying to find and exploit weaknesses. Well, she won't discover any!_

Seeing the bewilderment on his face, Bulma lifted herself off the bed and stood up, turning her back to him. "I know you're just dying to find out more about me, but I believe it's common courtesy for a man to ask the woman out," she folded her arms and tilted her head slightly to look back at him expectantly, that mischievous smile spread across her lips yet again. "Your move."

He growled, "I'd never hold any interest in a creature as foul as you!"

"Hmph. Suit yourself," she trudged across the room, heading for the door. "But I know you'll eventually come begging me to go on a date with you!" she winked and closed the door behind her as she made her exit.

Vegeta laid back down in his bed. He reached a hand up to his face where the bandage had been, his fingers tracing along his cut. _Dammed harpy didn't replace the bandage. She must have been too busy trying to tempt me._

He hated that he was growing increasingly interested in the woman, even if the interest only rested in his loins. He was sure that she was using some sort of mind-control to make his body respond to her in the most deplorable of ways. She was a scientific genius, after all. It wouldn't surprise him.

But he'd make no attempt to pursue her. He could _never_ chase after her, he had too much pride. He was certain that if he were to show the slightest notion that he was interested in the chase, even if it was simply a lust-driven pursuit, she would interpret it as a weakness. And he wasn't sure if the woman was really interested in him or if she was simply toying with him.

Even if it did turn out she wanted him so badly, he'd expect her to come crawling to him. Forget the 'gentleman' formalities these Earthlings practiced. For all he cared, she should be groveling at his feet like the servant she was and treat him like a king.

* * *

Bulma headed down the hall to rejoin her mother in preparing dinner, reflecting over her little encounter with Vegeta. Every little brush with her alien houseguest left her feeling confident with herself.

_That wasn't a definitive 'no' from him, so maybe he is a little curious about me, at least, _she assumed. _ I should bait that monkey to show he's interested in me. Somehow I'll have to find a way to chip at that barrier he's put up._

She was by no means serious about flirting with him, and she wasn't particularly interested in dating him either, but she wanted to prove that she could get any man to fall for her. It was a spontaneous game she crafted merely for her amusement. She had never encountered a man as stubborn as him, and yet she was intrigued. She was feeling up for the challenge.


	5. Chapter 5

Vegeta reproachfully glared at the blonde woman sitting across from him. He could not figure her out. The humans were a strange species, indeed. Sure, they bended to his will easily enough, but this woman did so unconditionally and happily. She doted on him, almost as if he was her pet.

Why was she so nice to him? It was aggravating! He had never been treated this way. And those _eyes_... those creepy eyes that she kept shut at all times, as if she was constantly amused at some secret thoughts she replayed over and over in her mind. Whatever went on in her head, he did not want to know.

A few minutes earlier, Vegeta had been coerced into joining the Briefs family at their dinner table. They had outright refused to bring food to him, as it appeared he'd recovered quickly, after Dr. Briefs had strolled into the infirmary around 5 pm only to find Vegeta doing gravity defying one-armed push ups. The indestructible Saiyan was taken off the I.V. without hesitation, though mostly because Vegeta had vehemently demanded it, insisting he did not need it. And he'd successfully persuaded Dr. Briefs by threatening to take the old man's life.

But the foolish Earthlings were convinced that he needed to 'take it easy'. The humans had even wanted Vegeta to grace them with his presence at the dinner table, coaxing him to join them. Well, it was more like he'd been _ordered_ to, on Bulma's part. She had screamed at him to come into the kitchen to retrieve his meal, and she'd even been so bold as to try to help him down the stairs by throwing one of her arms around his waist, to which he'd retorted by roaring at her.

"Say aah!"

Bunny was leaning across the table, fork in hand, trying to feed a slice of chocolate cake to the prince. Vegeta eyed her threateningly, but she in turn seemed to ignore his warning glare, or possibly didn't see it at all, for her eyes were closed. Vegeta particularly hated the blonde woman, for how could she be so laid-back and carefree when the threat of the androids loomed over the Earth? Wasn't the naive woman even afraid of them? No, instead here she was, trying to feed cake to a notorious blood-thirsty killer Saiyan. Pitiful.

"Mom, drop it, can't you see he's trying to eat?" Bulma scolded.

Bunny did indeed 'drop it'... She literally dropped the fork that carried a chunk of the cake right onto Vegeta's lap.

There was a stunned silence at the dinner table. Then everyone present could see the rage building just underneath the surface of Vegeta's face, his eyes clearly seething with anger as he tried to restrain himself from lunging at the clumsy blonde woman.

Sensing the impending danger, Bulma leapt up from her seat and headed toward Vegeta, quickly offering, "Let me clean that up." She didn't want to be his servant and jump at every one of his requests, but she thought it would be better to appease him this time instead of watching him lash out and potentially make an attempt to kill her mother.

"Forget it!" Vegeta roared as Bulma's hands hovered over his pants, right above his crotch. No way in hell was he letting her fingers anywhere near there!

He knocked the fork off his lap and grabbed a napkin, muttering curses as he cleaned the mess from his dirtied clothing.

"Hey! Don't just throw it on the ground!" Bulma yelled.

Vegeta tossed the spent napkin onto the table and resumed eating his meal, his teeth ripping through the flesh of a steak. Angrily, Bulma bent over to pick up the fork... right in front of Vegeta. He spat out some more curse words (and food) as her voluptuous rear-end invaded his direct line of sight.

The memory of the harlot women from the Girls Gone Wild commercial suddenly flashed before his eyes. And here the Earth woman was giving him a similar erotic display! Of course with the exception that she was fully clothed, wearing a pair of jeans, but somehow he found Bulma's concealed buttocks to be much more arousing than the naked asses of the whores from the commercial.

He forced himself to look away as he quickly grabbed a huge serving of sautéed brussels sprouts. He shoved the food into his mouth, hoping to finish his meal as soon as possible in order to get away from these people he'd long deemed to be unsightly abominations.

Bulma returned to her seat once she had dealt with the fork, and Bunny turned her attention on her daughter, announcing giddily to her husband, "Oh honey, did you know that Bulma and Yamcha have broken up again?"

Dr. Briefs dabbed at his mustache with a napkin, "Hm. Is that so?"

"I don't even want to talk about him!" Bulma continued chewing on her food, but her eyebrows arched down, clearly illustrating her displeasure.

"Oh, don't be upset about it, dear. I'm positive you two will reconcile again," Dr. Briefs said, gingerly scooping a spoonful of stir-fried Swiss chard.

"I'm not upset!" Bulma retorted, "And I am _never_ going to take that jerk back!" Then she sighed, "I'm just disappointed at myself, for letting it go on for so long..."

"Oh Bulma! It's not your fault!" Bunny consoled, "He changed because he wasn't used to life in the city."

"Right, and I should have left his sorry ass out there in the desert, and I could have had someone better all these years!" the heiress responded bitterly.

"Look at it this way, at least you're free to find a new man!" Bunny chuckled. She would have winked, but her eyes were already closed. "Isn't that wonderful? How exciting!"

"Well, right now I've got other things to worry about, instead of pursuing a relationship," Bulma groaned.

Vegeta interrupted the conversation by rudely pushing his empty dishes toward Bulma and standing up from his seat. He wiped his face clean with another napkin. "That's right, you have more important matters to attend to. You need to repair my Gravity Room. _Tonight_."

Bulma scowled, "You expect me to work out there, in this weather?"

Vegeta smirked, "Wouldn't you rather be out there in the rain than in your bed with that weakling?"

Bulma's face turned bright red. An awkward silence descended upon the dinner table.

Satisfied at having embarrassed her, Vegeta turned away and headed for his room. Bulma could feel her blood pressure rising. _No way in HELL is he going to say that in front of my parents and get away with it unscathed!_ Seconds later, she stormed away after him.

Her mother and father remained seated at the dinner table, stunned. Then the silence was broken when Bunny giggled, "Oh dear, it looks like she's already found a man!"

Dr. Briefs coughed, or rather, choked on his food. Where did she see _that_? He still did not understand these two women. "Ahem. What makes you think that? Not to be rude, but Vegeta is rather... frightening. Why would she dare to go after him?"

"Can't you see she is 'going after' him right now?" Bunny chortled.

"I didn't mean literally," Dr. Briefs sighed. Perhaps he would never understand how his wife's mind worked.

* * *

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Bulma pounded her fist against Vegeta's room door, which he had locked. "Open this door right now so I can yell at you!"

"You're yelling already, damned idiot!" he roared from somewhere far-off in the room.

"Huh! Well, wouldn't it be more appropriate if I yelled at you face-to-face?" She smiled, adding, "Face me like a man! C'mon! Bring that pointy little nose out here!"

The door swung open. Vegeta stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of black skin-tight boxers that hugged his thighs. Bulma stiffened at the sight of so much bare flesh.

The Saiyan folded his arms across his chest, as if he was not fazed at all that so much of his skin was on display. He scowled darkly at her, "Well? Amuse me. Let's hear it."

Bulma glanced away, suddenly feeling very nervous. She cleared her throat, "Look, I know you probably grew up uncivilized and without the ability to behave like a gentleman... but I implore you to at least have the decency to not mention my sexual conquests in front of my parents."

"Huh! Conquering one _weak_ man is hardly worth noting."

"Oh, then how many women have _you_ conquered? Mister 'I'm-a-prince-and-therefore-too-good-for-a-woman'."

Under his breath, Vegeta quickly hissed, "I don't have time to waste on _filth_."

"Oh, I see how it is. Can't even spare a second on anyone other than yourself, right? Too busy trying to become a Super Saiyan than to get with a girl? Or maybe you simply don't know how to. Maybe you aren't _man_ enough!"

Her words stung him, for he found two meanings behind them. _Maybe you aren't man enough_. Was she talking about his inability to land a woman, or his inability to become a Super Saiyan? Or perhaps both?

His glare darkened as she continued to insult him, "You know, that midget Krillin had a girlfriend once! And somehow, even Goku, who didn't know how to tell the difference between a man and a woman, managed to score a girl, albeit an irritating one."

"And that's why they are weaklings compared to me," Vegeta said matter-of-factly, "A true warrior does not tolerate the insufferable screeching of a crone."

"Then what about your father? Obviously _he_ got with a woman, your mother, and they had you."

"He was weak, likely for that very reason. I'd surpassed him as a child."

How cruel that he could speak that way about his own parents! Bulma ground her teeth together, irritated. She pulled her last card, "Then why is Goku stronger than you? Considering that he was 'weak' enough to let a woman into his life and have a kid with her. If you think that accounts for weakness, then how was he able to become a Super Saiyan when you, proud prude Vegeta, could not?"

His shoulders went taut and he lowered his head dangerously, his eyes locked onto hers, "Mark my words, woman, I _will_ surpass Kakarott. And once I do, I will kill those androids, _kill_ Kakarott in front of his wife and that pathetic half-breed mutant child of his, and I will enslave every Earthling on this planet, along with _you_. You and your pitiful human race will kneel under my regime!"

She was almost smug that she had gotten such a reaction out of him, but she was not pleased that he would threaten to kill and enslave her friends. "Oh, please. We both know Goku will kick your ass, just like last time."

"I would have killed him if his pathetic allies had not interfered. But once I ascend, I _will_ settle the score."

She laughed, "Fat chance! How could you hope to beat him when you have nothing to defend other than your own selfish pride?"

Vegeta stiffened, "What are you saying?"

Bulma rolled her eyes, as if the answer was obvious. "You have nothing to protect, nothing to live for, other than yourself. Goku beat you because he has people he loves and cares about. He has a family and friends he would sacrifice himself for, and when you threatened to steal our Dragon Balls and take our lives, he had no choice but to defend his loved ones. That's not weakness. I'd say that a real warrior has something worth fighting for, not just his own life. Haven't you ever thought that maybe his selflessness is the reason why he managed to become a Super Saiyan?"

Vegeta's scowl deepened. "Kakarott is a shame to the Saiyan race. And he won't be able to save his friends for long," he narrowed his eyes vindictively, "Let's see if he can protect _you_ from me."

She remained unfazed, "Just try it, I dare you! But until then, you can't deny that you _desperately_ need me to fix the Gravity Room and repair those silly training bots of yours! So maybe you could learn to show a little gratitude, after all, I'm going to be out there tonight, in the _freezing rain, _fixing that training capsule of yours!"

"Well then, you're free to get started on it anytime now." He shut the door in her face.

Having failed in her attempt at getting some sympathy for her out of him, Bulma yelled, "Ugh! You're impossible!" She kicked the wall adjacent to his room and stomped down the hall. _Back to square one_, she thought, gritting her teeth. _Jerk!_

* * *

Vegeta heard her yelling profanities as she marched down the hallway. Grumbling a few curses himself, he went into his bathroom to prepare for his bath, dumping shampoos and soaps into the tub, not bothering to discern what they were for or to read the labels on the bottles to learn how to properly use them.

He proceeded to peel the bandages off his wounds and discarded them into the trash. His wounds had already healed remarkably in only a matter of hours, but still they were in the scabbing stage, not yet proper scars. He was well aware that the slightest bit of careless mistreatment of his skin could reopen the wounds, further prolonging the time it would take for him to fully heal. And thus being yet another hindrance to his training.

The bath filled almost to the top, he stepped into the tub, allowing the water to surround him. The sting of every cut on his body meeting with the hot water was an indication to him that his wounds still needed more time to heal. But he didn't care. He planned to resume his training as soon as Bulma finished the repairs to the GR. He hoped she'd get started immediately, or he would wreak hell upon her house to punish her. He would have to destroy a few items of furnature to get the point across.

Closing his eyes and attempting to relax, he decided to practice his ki sensing abilities by sensing for the wretched woman. It was still fairly difficult for him to track down her particular energy signal, for she was so weak he could barely detect it. _She must have a power level below zero_, he smirked, amused that he was surrounded by weaklings that he could easily wipe-out without lifting a finger.

There. He found her. He could tell by the slight fluctuation of her ki that she was in a foul mood. Now concentrating his senses acutely on her signal alone, he pinpointed her exact location. She was outside.

_Good_, he thought, _She's been true to her word and is out there working on my capsule. Looks like I'll be able to get back to my training, after all. That bothersome insect had better throw in some upgrades while she's at it or I will be royally pissed!_

He still did not know how he'd been able to tolerate her for this long. Never had he felt that he should destroy an insubordinate so much. True, she was useful for her mechanical skills, but it seemed she felt free to boss him around and insult him, and to Vegeta that in itself merited in death.

He felt enough shame as it was, having to depend on these Earthlings for food, shelter, and their technology, but on top of it he had this blue-haired woman constantly following behind him at his heels, barking demands at him. And he always found himself submitting to her, backing away whenever he felt he should take her life. Though in recent years, somehow he'd been feeling less inclined to taking the lives of those beneath him. Somehow, killing weaklings just wasn't fun anymore.

He submerged himself deeper into the bath water, reminiscing back to when he had been on Namek. He remembered Bulma had been there, and he recalled his first impression of her - the moment he'd first laid his eyes on her, he'd noticed how strikingly beautiful she was. He was surprised that an Earthling could be so attractive. He had very briefly even guessed that being on such a dangerous planet, she would have to be a warrior of some sort, and he assumed she was brave for entering such a perilous place, being on the same planet as the usurper Frieza, with the monstrous tyrant's underlings lurking everywhere.

But once Zarbon showed up on the scene, Bulma had amorously looked upon him as if he were some hero to rescue her. Vegeta had immediately concluded that the woman was nothing more than an ignorant simpleton, and he lost interest in her entirely. He thought she was foolish for taking Zarbon for a hero on the sole basis that the alien was good-looking. But the Saiyan prince knew better. He knew that looks were deceiving when dealing with Frieza's men. He'd known Zarbon all his life, the teal-skinned brute was far from the heroic type. He had been just as bloodthirsty and ruthless as Frieza.

Then after he'd effortlessly killed Zarbon, he turned his attention back to Krillin and Bulma, and he saw her cowering in fear behind the little bald man. At that moment, she had been absolutely terrified of the Saiyan. Her life was in his hands.

And now, Vegeta realized that she may never react that way near him again. Could it be because he'd spared her life back on Namek, she no longer viewed him as a threat, feeling at ease in his presence? No, she still seemed to be a little wary of his intentions, so that couldn't be it.

Or maybe he had misjudged her. Perhaps she _was_ brave. He'd been confirmed of her courageousness when Frieza had come to Earth, and she seemed ready to face her fate without backing down, while all the other Z Fighters had feared for their lives. She alone was not afraid of Frieza - a feat Vegeta could never accomplish. Hell, even he was _still_ terrified of the deceased monster. The only true fear he'd ever felt was at the hands of that dictator, and the memory of all those years he'd served under Frieza sent an occasional shudder through his entire being.

But the woman was not afraid. How had she become this way? Back on Namek she seemed like the type who would beg for mercy, not rise to face death. How had she come to accept her mortality? Was she simply a fool who was naively growing comfortable around her enemies?

Vegeta thought hard for an answer, when the revelation dawned upon him. Yes, she _is_ indeed brave, even during the event when he had held her fate in his hands back on Namek. She had cowered in fear, certainly, but she hadn't tried to run away, whether or not she'd known it was futile. Vegeta himself wouldn't have that kind of bravery in the face of a foe he knew he proved no match against. He had escaped from stronger enemies such as Ginyu and Frieza when the occasion called for it. Did that make him a coward? No, that wasn't quite it - he was just playing it safe back then, strategically eluding his enemies while devising to take them down once he got stronger.

But the woman did not have that option, she could only choose to either beg for her life, or try to make her escape, only to be picked-off as she fled. But she had done neither. She stayed to face her fate.

That bravery of hers was one reason why he had spared her then, and continued to tolerate her now. He could not bring himself to take the life of someone so fearless. He had never meat a woman who did not run from him, not until now.

Vegeta decided he had to reconsider his opinion of her. Maybe there was a bit more to the 'vulgar woman' that he had yet to understand, after all.

* * *

The rain had finally calmed to a light drizzle around 8 pm. It was pitch black outdoors, and the clouds blanketing the sky only served to add to the oppressively dark obscurity of nightfall. A set of outdoor halogen lights mounted atop a tripod illuminated the Capsule Corp lawn where the Gravity Capsule had been struck and toppled over on its side. A tarp had been stretched over the capsule to prevent it from getting any wetter from the rain.

"I could use a little help here!" Bulma yelled to her father. She and her father were alone out on the lawn, wearing vibrant yellow raincoats to shield themselves from the weather.

Earlier that evening, a few Capsule Corp employees had helped by pitching in and uprighting the capsule, though they could not handle such intricate mechanical things as Dr. Briefs and Bulma could. The assistant workers had definitely contributed a good deal of effort to repairing the capsule, it was close to being completely repaired, but the perplexing technical problems that required a genius mind to tend to them was out of their hands, and naturally such demanding work was left to the Briefs.

"What is it, sweetie?" Dr. Briefs leaned over his daughter's shoulder.

"I've got most of it taken care of already, but could you fix the rest of these broken circuits and fuses in the motherboard? There's only a few left anyway, it shouldn't take you long," she said, brushing aside a few wet strands of hair from her forehead.

"Right-O. You should get some rest. It looks like you'll need it," her father eyed her critically.

Bulma groaned and rolled her eyes, "Gee, thanks dad."

She went back inside the house, discarding her raincoat in a hamper, and she suddenly felt the need to treat herself to a nice hot cup of cocoa.

As she came into the kitchen, she ran into her mother. Bunny nearly dropped the tray of sweets she was carrying as she screeched, "Oh Bulma, your perm!"

Bulma looked into the closest mirror. Her curls were now splayed out in every direction. Her hair looked impressively disastrous. "Ugh, great! Guess I'm going to need a haircut," she ran her fingers through the wet tangled mess and attempted to slick her hair back, but to no avail.

She sighed, "Looks like all this damaged hair is gonna have to go... Well, with all the hard work I have ahead of me, I can't have my hair getting in my way all the time, huh mom?"

"I'll make an appointment at the salon for you," Bunny chirped.

"Could you? I really need to get it taken care of ASAP. Try to schedule an appointment for tomorrow if you can. Can't fall behind on repairs of His Royal Jerkface will throw a fit."

"I'll see what I can do!" Bunny chuckled and went to the phone. Of course she could book an appointment for tomorrow, she knew all the owners of the best salons, and being the wife of the reputable Capsule Corp founder had its benefits.

Eventually, Bulma retrieved her hot cocoa and headed for the living room, hoping to relax and catch a documentary on tv about mechanical engineering. But as she entered the room, she found there, alone, reclining on the sofa as if he owned the place, was Vegeta. To her relief he wasn't running around the house in his boxers. He was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and black cargo pants.

Bulma let out a sigh through her nostrils. She had bought more colorful clothes for him to wear and she and her mother had hung them up in his closet, but it seemed he always skimmed over them and tended to choose a more monochromatic dress attire.

He didn't even acknowledge her as she came into the room. He just stared at the tv, looking unamused and as if he would fall asleep any moment from sheer boredom. Bulma could tell that he had just taken a shower, the scent of freshly shampooed hair lazily drifted through the vicinity, reaching her nostrils. She internally acknowledged that he smelled pretty damn good, not like his usual sweaty stench.

She approached and sat down on a chair next to the sofa Vegeta was lying on. "Boxing again?" she asked, trying to initiate a friendlier conversation than the previous one they had engaged in earlier. Vegeta only grunted.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched her fidgeting around, one of her hands lifting her mug of hot cocoa to her lips, the other holding a towel in place over her damp hair. Raindrops rested on her eyelashes as she drank from her cup, and her cheeks were flushed pink from having been in the cold. Vegeta stealthily spied on her gentle, slow movements. Now as he was observing her, inspecting her closely, could he see that she indeed was a remarkably pretty creature. No, not simply pretty - she was exquisitely beautiful.

Bulma finished her hot chocolate drink and set the empty cup down on a nearby coffee table. With both hands she rubbed the towel through her hair, then she discarded the towel to the floor.

Vegeta's eyes widened, and a mocking laugh burst through his throat.

Bulma glared at him. "What's so funny?"

"_You_," he cackled cruelly, "It looks as if some beast chose to make its nest on your head."

She blushed, "Yeah, yeah, I know! This only happened because I was fixing _your_ precious toy! So in a way it's your fault!"

"Hardly! Don't blame me for your horrendous taste in hair styling," he smirked.

_He's in a good mood_. _I bet he's feeling really pleased with himself, knowing I just spent my time out in the rain fixing his stupid machine_, Bulma pouted and crossed her arms. She, on the other hand, was not in such a good mood, having just slaved away, toiling outside in the rain at night and having her delicate perm ruined by such harsh weather.

She decided to get back at him with a stabbing remark, and she piqued, "Hmph, maybe I should follow your example and spike my hair up ridiculously, like some ugly little porcupine, and style a silly looking widow's peak down my forehead."

Vegeta's smirk faded into a frown.

She continued her verbal assault, "I wonder, do you style your hair that high to compensate for your shortness, or is it just inflated by your absurdly large ego?"

"I do not _style_ my hair," he reclined further into the couch, "You miserable humans do not have the luxury of having a mane that does not undergo any obstructive changes. Saiyan hair does not grow any further for it would interfere with our battles." _That's one reason why Raditz was such a weakling... aside from the fact that the fool was unfortunate enough to be related to Kakarott_, Vegeta smirked at his thoughts.

"Well, that's dull! Who would want the same boring hairstyle for the rest of their life?" Bulma asked incredulously.

"Obviously not you, with that hideous blue wreak atop your head. Not _dull_ enough, is it?"

"Hmph!" Bulma snorted, choosing to ignore that remark. She grabbed one of her mother's fashion magazines off the table in front of her and began flipping through the pages, hoping to find a picture of a hairstyle she liked enough to bring to the hairdresser as reference. She knew she wanted a shorter hairstyle, so it wouldn't interfere with her work, and having had her hair curled and permed into the big 'fro had done irreparable damage to her hair, nearly frying and splitting every single strand. She'd decided that it was time to stop with the extreme styles, and she needed to begin preserving her hair. After all, she was now in her 30's, and she'd soon have to take over her father's business. She needed a mature look to suit her.

After several minutes, she had narrowed her choice down to three different styles. She couldn't decide, so she turned to Vegeta for help. "Hey, since you're not doing anything, why not make yourself useful and give me your input?"

He frowned. "Input? I hope you mean my input on what upgrades I want to the Gravity Chamber."

"No, I'm talking about my hair, duh. I'm getting it trimmed tomorrow, and I'm having some trouble choosing what style to get. I need someone else's opinion."

"In that case, forget it."

She leaned closer to him, holding the three magazine clippings up to his eye level. "Just choose between one of these. Which style do you think would look prettiest on me?"

He leered at her, "Why would you even ask me that? I couldn't care less about such a thing. Go ask that brainless blonde ditz."

"C'mon, just give me a little bit of feedback, pleeeease?" She pulled her most persuasive puppy-dog eyes look.

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably at the pleading expression she wore. "Why not put that so-called 'brilliant' mind of yours to work and figure it out yourself?"

"I'm only asking for your opinion," she pressed on.

"What makes you think I'd have an opinion concerning atrocious hair styles?"

"Yeah, I can see you don't. Obviously not your area of expertise," she snickered, taking another jab at his hairstyle. He glowered at the remark.

Bulma resumed her pestering, "Okay, then, if you can't choose one you like, at the very least tell me which one you despise. That'll help me a little to narrow down my decision." She jiggled the three pictures in front of his face, "So, tell me, which is your least favorite?"

"Your hair right now is my least favorite," he chaffed.

"I meant the pictures!"

He knew she wouldn't stop harrassing him until he gave her an answer, so to shut her up he angrily looked at each of the three magazine clippings. He observed that the women in the pictures were not nearly as pretty as the blue-haired girl sitting in front of him. He tried envisioning her with each of the womens' hairstyles.

After a few seconds he muttered, "The one on the left."

It was a hairstyle similar to the one she had when Raditz had come to Earth. "Oh, so you don't like this one?" she said, almost crestfallen. It was the style she was leaning toward the most.

"_No_," Vegeta growled, then he mumbled almost inaudibly, "I thought that one might possibly look the _least_ hideous on you."

Bulma raised an eyebrow, "The _least hideous_? What do you mean? You think they'd all look bad on me?"

"Nothing could be as awful as your current hairstyle."

"Oh shut up!" She picked up a cushion and tossed it in his direction, aiming for his head. She missed by a good two feet - the cushion sailed through the air and hit the floor.

Vegeta jeered, "Is that the best you can do? I guess that mass of hair is interfering with your depth perception."

"I was simply _blinded by rage_!"

"Rage, huh? Is that so?" He stood up suddenly, placing both hands on the sides of his waist and sneering down his nose at her, "Alright then. I could use some sport."

Bulma stared up at him suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Since you're not doing anything, you may as well make yourself useful," he mockingly repeated what she had said earlier. "Now. Stand up."

She did not stand. "Don't tell me you're going to try to beat me up?" she asked cautiously.

He rolled his eyes, "Don't make me laugh. On the contrary - I want to see if _you_ can hit _me_. I am curious to see how you underdeveloped weaklings defend yourselves, and since I can't use my Gravity Room, I may as well 'train' some other way. Now get on your feet, and take that pent-up frustration out on me."

Warily she stood, though still mistrusting of his intentions. "If I do, you won't take it as an excuse to kill me, will you? You won't hit me back?"

_If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it by now_... he thought, but did not dare say it aloud. He enjoyed that she was being cautious around him. And he could sense her anger, and it was exciting him nearly into a frenzy. He was in the mood for battle. Even just a silly, pointless spar with the Earth woman would satisfy him.

"I don't need to hit _weaklings_," he scoffed. "Let's see if you can take your anger out on me. Go on."

Still she was dissuaded. "Even if this is just a game, I have no reason to hit you," she folded her arms.

"Should I give you a reason?" he enticed maliciously.

"Don't provoke me," she warned with a stern glare.

"Huh! Let's see it, then!" He continued to try inciting her anger, "I'll even lower my power level all the way down to zero. I know you can't handle me at my full power!"

She found a double entendre behind his choice of words, and she began to snicker. Vegeta frowned, somewhat annoyed. "Care to tell me what you find so amusing, woman?"

She recovered, "Oh, nothing." Then she assumed a mock fighting pose, "Alright. I'll play along with your little game and 'try' to hit you. But don't cry when you get hurt!"

He smirked, "What, you're going to try to deal a blow to me with _that_ laughable stance? Is this how you would wage battle against an opponent? You'd be open to their every attack. Pathetic!"

"I'm not a fighter, _duh_! I'm just playing along with your childish game."

He lowered his arms until they rested at his sides. "Go ahead, then. Hit me as hard as your can."

She pouted, then coyly struck her arm out, aiming for his shoulder. In the blink of an eye and without even the slightest bit of effort, he leaned back, dodging her feeble attack.

Bulma bit at the inside of her cheek, frustrated. "Hey! You didn't say anything about dodging me!"

"Try again, amateur," he responded, no trace of emotion in his voice.

She did, this time aiming her fist at his chest, and again he evaded easily. It was clear to him that she was growing more frustrated and angrier, while he became even more amused at the sight of her scowling face. Oddly he found her dissatisfied expression to be highly interesting, perhaps even cute.

"Am I making you angry?" He laughed at her, "This is too amusing. You humans are pitiful! If this is how you'd defend yourself against those androids, then I'd say you have absolutely no hope. Might as well resign yourself to your fate."

"Fine, I'm not going to hold back anymore!" She readied herself again, and now her strikes were no longer half-hearted. Now she _really _wanted to hit him to prove him wrong. But she continued to only strike the empty air, her punches fruitless.

Then, as she threw a particularly angry fist at him, he caught her wrist in his hand.

"Hey! What gives?" She tugged her arm to free herself, but he held her in a firm grip. She continued to struggle in vain. He only stared blankly at her wrist, a barely noticeable frown on his lips.

She scowled at him, "If you want to hold my hand so much, you could just ask!"

He grimaced and released her. Then he lifted a hand up, motioning a finger to his chest. "Fine, human. I'm not going to dodge this time. Hit me."

She glanced at his eyes, then to his chest. Then she hit him on the spot he had indicated, very lightly.

Vegeta grumbled, not impressed. "Hit _harder_."

She laughed, "No, I don't want to _hurt_ you!" She was only bluffing, of course. She knew she couldn't hurt him.

"Oh believe me, you won't," he laughed at the hopeless woman before him.

She saw the opportunity and struck - but not where he had told her to. She kneed him under the belt.

For a second he blinked in surprise. Then, slowly but surely, the pain hit him.

He willed himself not to be brought to his knees - he did not want her to see how much she had hurt him, so instead he endured the excruciating pain, his body trembling as one of his hands gripped the sofa, and one of his eyes twitched shut. He snarled, "What the _hell_ are you doing, you moron!" He gritted his teeth, fighting the agony in his loins. _Stupid, beastly woman! Damn it! I guess she DOESN'T have a negative power level, after all... Judging from that blow I'd estimate her to be around a two!_

"I told you not to cry when I hurt you," Bulma scolded.

He snapped his head back up to glare accusingly at her, "Idiot! I'm not _crying_!"

"Aw, you'll be alright. Goku's been shot at with bullets and he was fine. A kick to the groin shouldn't affect you that badly, though you might not be able to beat-off for a week."

_She did NOT say that just now_. His mouth hung open in his astonishment, "Shut up! Disgusting woman!" He sat back on the sofa, crushing his fingers around a cushion to deter himself from the pain in his nether-regions. "That was a shameless cheap shot, you damned siren!"

"Aw, poor you. Want me to heal that wound, too?"

His eye twitched yet again, this time in horror. "Don't even _think_ about it," he growled, simultaneously shifting the lower half of his body away from her.

She sat herself down next to him. "I didn't mean your physical wound, you perv. I was talking about your wounded pride."

"Shows how little you know. You are barely capable of giving me a flesh wound, but wounding my pride would really be something, because it's _impossible_!"

"Okay, okay," she placed her hands on his forearm and looked into his eyes, "I'm sorry for that cheap shot," she said sincerely.

"Tch." He pulled his arm away, but she only advanced closer to him.

"What _now_? Can't you leave me alone for even a second?" he eyed her suspiciously.

She pouted, "Let me show you just how sorry I am." She placed both of her hands on his cheeks and swiftly brought his face to hers, quickly kissing him on his forehead.

"_What_ are you _doing_!" he lurched away from her, yelping in absolute horror.

Bulma grinned cunningly, "_That_ is how I fight my men!" Then she added slyly, "And I thought it would be okay to do that, since you just took a shower. Normally I wouldn't even touch such a dirty little man. And I owed you for kicking you in the nuts."

_What the hell is this? Some manipulative psychological warfare she's waging against me?_ he thought, greatly annoyed. _Well, I won't let her tactics get to me!_

He growled at her, "Don't do that again, fool, unless you'd like me to respond by vomiting... On your _grave_!"

The pain in his loins was now gone, but was replaced with an entirely different feeling that he tried to suppress along with the blush tinting his cheeks. Though she was not equal to him in battle, her fiery temper and smart remarks were on par with his, and that alone impressed him. He was actually finding himself growing more and more impressed with her.

"So? What did you think?" Bulma said, interrupting his thoughts, "Were my girly punches enough to keep you at bay?" She flexed her arms, sarcastically adding, "You know, I think I can take on those androids all on my own!" she laughed.

"Idiot!"

"Come on, it's just a joke."

"You'll wish you could joke like that when they kill you," Vegeta scowled darkly, "Do not take such an opponent for granted, especially when they outpace you in every way."

Bulma pushed her shoulders back confidently, "They are not going to kill me, or you, or anyone! Not when I upgrade that GR of yours and whip up some new training equipment for you," she pounded a fist against her chest, as if making a pact and signing a sacred blood oath, "I'm going to make sure you get so tough you'll tear those monsters apart!"

Vegeta looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at her confident gaze. He was flattered that she had such high expectations of him. And he could feel the blush on his cheeks intensifying.

"So," she waved a hand in front of his face, breaking his eye contact with the ceiling, and he glanced back at her. "Where do you think you stand, if you had to fight them right now? Do we have a chance of winning?"

_We._ He nearly cringed. _I am NOT one of you Earthlings_. But instead he spoke, with resentment, "Not... until I ascend."

"Hm. Yes, we do have that problem to overcome... is 500Gs not enough? Or maybe dad and I should create some new training bots, a more advanced variety with a higher A.I. since you keep _breaking_ them immediately." She absentmindedly rubbed her chin with a curled index finger, deep in thought, "And there is the problem of getting the capsule to sustain such a high output of energy... anything above 500Gs and it'll malfunction again..."

He hardly wanted to discuss mechanical jargon now. He knew she would figure it out eventually, like she always did.

He stopped mid-thought. _Since when did I have confidence in her ability now? Ugh._

Grudgingly, he said, "Obviously the amount of gravity isn't much of an issue, since-" he cringed, "_Kakarott_ trained under only one hundred times gravity. There has to be something _more_..." he clenched his fists, wishing he could simultaneously punch Goku and the boy from the future right in their smug faces.

_They do not deserve to go around flaunting MY birthright!_ he thought angrily.

"Maybe if you took the capsule out into space, you could do it. I heard that's what he did," Bulma suggested. She didn't want Vegeta to leave, because she wanted to make sure he got as strong as possible, but she wouldn't want to hinder him from reaching his ultimate potential.

He'd already considered going into space to train, but he didn't want to do _exactly_ what the dunce had. No, he had to find out how to do this his _own_ way. And, unfortunately, he'd need these Earthlings to keep repairing his equipment... If the Gravitron malfunctioned while he was in the depths of space, he would be screwed.

"No," he said at last, "At least, not until I completely drain this planet of its resources," he cracked a smirk.

"If you insist, but you'd need at least a few thousand years to do that!" she huffed. Though she knew that with the Saiyans' voracious appetites, it would probably be much sooner than that.

He shifted the conversation, "Well? Have you repaired the Gravity Room yet, so I can get back to my training?"

"Hn? Oh... It's almost done. Dad's handling the last bits and he should have the rest of it fixed in half an hour or so. But to be fair, I took care of the most challenging problems," she said smugly. "I swear, I don't know how you manage to break the Gravitron almost every time you use it."

Vegeta smirked, proud of his destructive abilities.

Bulma bit a nail, "Plus I would have gotten it done much sooner if it wasn't for this damned weather... and on top of that, I have to get my hair taken care of tomorrow... Ugh!" She wrinkled her nose angrily, thinking of the tight schedule she had ahead of her.

"Well?" Vegeta crossed his legs.

She looked back at him, "Hm? 'Well', what?"

"Aren't you glad you got to spend your time contributing to my benefit instead of_ his_?"

"'_His_'? Oh..." She realized who he was talking about, and she grimaced, "Ugh! Don't even go there! I don't want to talk about him!"

"I take it you're glad, then? That you spent your time benefiting me instead?" Vegeta smirked. He wanted his priorities to lie far above that weakling's, and he enjoyed that Bulma put everything else aside to work on the Gravity Chamber.

She sighed, long and hard. "Well... I suppose. It at least helped to take my mind off that jerk."

"What!" he said with an exclaimed snarl.

Bulma raised an eyebrow, surprised at his little outburst, "You don't need to get so mad. I only said it helped me to not think about him!"

"You shouldn't be doing it to take your mind off that whelp! You should do it solely for _my _benefit. That weakling should not be on your mind when you are working on the Gravity Room!" He feared that somehow that would taint the Gravitron and lead to it breaking quickly again.

"I _just_ broke up with him, Vegeta! And after the way he treated me, of course I'd be thinking about him! Though I'm not thinking nice thoughts, mind you!"

"Hmm. I see. So you're thinking perverse thoughts involving him? I shouldn't be surprised, you _are_ a vulgar woman, after all."

She blushed, "That's not what I meant!"

"_Anyway_," Vegeta growled, "That scar-faced _runt_ does not deserve your time."

"Is that so?" Bulma smiled from ear-to-ear.

He realized his mistake. He hadn't meant it to come out sounding _that_ way. But it was too late for him to correct himself.

She broke the silence, "Hm. And do you think _you_ deserve my time?"

"Don't get any ideas. You are a human slave to me, not his, and that's all." He got up, preparing to leave.

"Now just hold on a minute!" She clutched his upper arm, "Since when did I become your personal slave?"

He wrenched his arm free.

Bulma smirked, "Hm, well then, I guess 'slave' is your way of saying 'girlfriend'."

He laughed menacingly, "Girl-friend? Don't be stupid. You most certainly are _not_ my friend."

"Ah, I forgot, you don't know what we call it on this planet. It would mean we are dating."

Coldly he chuckled, "Don't make me retch." But a corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his discomfort. Of course he'd known what she meant, but he wanted to avoid such a disgusting topic. He didn't want to puke in front of her.

"So you won't get mad if you see me hanging out with other guys?" She shot a taunting grin at him, "You won't get... _jealous_?"

"Spend your time more wisely, human. You are not to waste it on weaklings. It would be in your best interest to dedicate yourself entirely to working on those upgrades. That is, if you want to live when the androids show up!"

"Right, whatever. But know this - no man can resist my charm, Vegeta. Not even a freaky alien monkey-man." And with that, she stood up and stretched, yawning, "Well, despite all the fun I'm having teasing you, it's getting late, and I need to get my beauty sleep."

She walked a few feet in the direction of the hall before turning around to add, "I advise you don't start training until later tomorrow, after I return from the salon. Your body isn't ready to handle 500Gs just yet."

Once he heard the sound of her room door shutting, Vegeta left the living room. He felt he didn't need to heed her warning. He would resume his training _tonight_. He decided her fears were unreasonable. She didn't know anything about a Saiyan's tolerance to injuries.


	6. Chapter 6

It was almost 10 pm. Vegeta was standing outside. The rain had calmed to a light sprinkle, but the wind had picked up violently, whipping a spray of tiny raindrops across the Saiyan's face. The trees across the lawn groaned as their branches were rattled by the rough winds, their leaves rustling and shaking loudly to voice their discomfort of the storm.

Vegeta looked up to the Capsule Corp building, up to the window that he knew was where Bulma's bedroom resided. Only a faint light emanated from somewhere far off in her room - he assumed it had to be the bathroom light. He was aware that these Earth women had an odd habit of primping themselves before going to sleep. Bulma was probably fiddling with her disastrous hair, Vegeta concluded with a sinister smirk. Since he'd met her, he'd noticed she had a habit of frequently changing her hair into many wild styles, but this time she'd gone too far. Her frizzy blue 'fro was even stranger than Jeice's blanched white mullet.

He jerked his head away from the window and headed over to his capsule. He didn't want to waste any more time thinking about bothersome humans. Now he was free to concentrate on his training.

He searched for the ki of Dr. Briefs, hoping he was finished working on the GR. To Vegeta's relief, the old man was somewhere inside the house. If any more humans crossed the Saiyan's path and got between him and his training, he would be pissed.

His capsule came into view, and he was glad to see that it was standing upright, looking good as new. He had to hand it to these Earthlings, they certainly were capable of repairing things with exceeding quickness.

He hit the button on the control panel to open the door. The capsule hissed as the platform was lowered, descending down onto the wet grass. He stepped into the Gravity Room and the door closed behind him.

* * *

The sound of Bunny's singing was coming from somewhere down the hallway. Upon waking up, Bulma sat up in her bed and looked to her alarm clock. It read 9:41 am.

She groaned, an internal berating crossing her mind, _Ugh... I forgot to set my alarm again_! She sleepily rose from her bed and stretched, arching her back until she heard a pop. _God I'm getting old_, she lightheartedly mused to herself.

"Bulma," Bunny knocked on the door of her daughter's bedroom, "Breakfast is ready!"

"I'll be out in a second!" Bulma yelled, throwing on a big t-shirt and a pair of sweats. As she exited her room and headed down the hall, she glanced at a mirror on the wall. She'd pulled her hair back into a bun before going to sleep, but it appeared the bun had come loose - clumps of hair were jaggedly sticking out in every direction, closely resembling the bare, gnarled branches of some sort of hellish tree.

She grumbled in discontent, recalling the events of the previous night that had led to the disastrous hairstyle. _This mess will be taken care of today_, she reassured herself.

Twenty minutes later, Bulma finished the last of her toast and oatmeal and gulped down the remainder of her orange juice. She stood and pushed her chair back, piling her dishes, and before carrying them to the sink she turned to her mother and asked, "Hey mom, Vegeta didn't come in to eat breakfast, did he?"

"Why, no, I don't think he did," the blonde replied somewhat lackadaisically as she flipped through a magazine, "Though at seven I got up and he came inside, and he quickly headed for his room... bless him, the poor man looked rather shabby!"

"Came in from where?" Bulma asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Outside."

"Ugh! I told him he can't train yet!" Bulma cried out angrily, "That bonehead!" She carried her dishes to the sink and tossed them in, paying no mind to the cup she broke as it shattered into a dozen pieces, its shards falling into the garbage disposal. She turned her seething glare on her mother, "Mom, while I'm gone, you and dad have to keep an eye on Vegeta. He is in no condition to push himself too hard. Can you tell him to at the very least wait until I get home before he runs out to play around in the Gravity Room? I have to do a test run to make sure it'll be in proper working condition, before he gets a chance to blow it to pieces again."

"I'll try, sweetie, but you know how determined that man is. He may not listen to-"

"Thanks, mom!" Bulma headed upstairs to take a quick shower.

Of course she knew it was useless to attempt to dissuade Vegeta from his training, but it couldn't hurt to try. _Well, can't say I didn't try to warn that masochistic training junkie._

Once she finished her shower, she dried her hair and pulled it back, holding the tangled mass in place with a hair clip. She dressed herself in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and grabbed her Hoi-Poi capsule containing her car. She headed outside. It was no longer raining, but the lawn and neighboring houses were freshly dampened, indicating that the downpour had stopped not long ago. The sky was partly cloudy, but there was a fairly strong breeze.

Bulma activated the capsule and threw it out into the street, and her car appeared in a cloud of smoke. She opened the door and stepped inside.

At noon, Bulma had her car window rolled all the way down as she drove home, her new short hair moving with the breeze blowing through it. She fancied her new haircut - it wasn't too youthful or playful, but it flattered her cheekbones and shaped her face elegantly. She brushed a few blue strands of hair out of her face.

_Now I have a new life ahead of me, as a single woman_! she thought, but frowned when Yamcha crossed her mind once again, like a plague constantly blotting her thoughts. Her lip curled up into a disdainful snarl, "I don't know how that idiot could cheat on me!"

But she refused to let the memories of Yamcha spoil her day. "Well, it's his loss. You hear me, you big loser!" she savagely shouted into the air.

A man driving in the next lane over was startled by Bulma's war-cry, and he nearly swerved off the road.

Bulma noticed the man's reckless driving. "Ah, see there, Bulma, that man was nearly bowled-over by your stunning beauty!" she said out loud to herself, laughing haughtily.

* * *

"What do you mean I can't go outside?" Vegeta growled at the old man and the blonde woman blocking his path to the door. Vegeta had just woken up, and he hadn't gotten much sleep, evident by the dark circles framing his piercing eyes. He looked fiercely irritated. "What makes you think you can forbid me from going out there? Well?"

Dr. Briefs was shaking slightly with fear, his face turning pale, "Well... um, you see-" he fumbled, trying to find the right words to say.

"Out of my way!" Vegeta elbowed the old man aside and reached his arm out for the door, while Bunny squeaked, "Oh, but Vegeta, Bulma insisted that you need to stay inside!"

"Stop your prattling!" Vegeta barked, baring his teeth at the frightened couple, "I don't care what you or that infuriating blue-haired harpy says!" He forced the door open and marched outside.

"Well, I tried," Dr. Briefs muttered, crestfallen.

Bunny sighed, "Bulma is not going to be happy about this... I'd better go out and buy some of her favorite cakes."

"I don't think cake is the solution to this, dear."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Bulma entered the house, a big grin plastered on her face. Just as she entered the hall, she ran into her mother, who was wearing a coat and clutching her purse.

Bulma eyed her mother curiously, "Hey mom. What are you all dolled-up for? Going somewhere?"

"Oh! Bulma," the blonde took note of her daughter's new hairstyle, "Oh that cut looks so lovely on you!"

"Yeah, thanks. Hey, so did Vegeta cause any trouble?"

Bunny giggled nervously. Bulma narrowed her eyes at the tell-tale sign that her mother was hiding something. "He's out there in his stupid little capsule, isn't he?" Distraught, she threw her Hoi-Poi capsule across the room (luckily, the capsule was not activated, otherwise her car would have appeared in the middle of the hallway) and she marched back outside.

She banged on the door of the training capsule with a balled-up fist, "Vegeta, get out here right now!"

A minute went by and her request went unanswered, so she threw the emergency override switch and opened the door to the GR. She fearlessly stepped inside. The lights were off and it was chillingly dark inside.

"Hey, _dork_! Where are you hiding?" she called out boldly. She searched the wall for the light switch, and upon finding it she did not hesitate to turn the lights on.

Vegeta was sitting at one of the pilot seats, a palm pressed against his forehead. He seemed to be unaware of her presence. His eyes were shut and he was squinting in pain.

Bulma rushed over to his side, a mixture of anger and worry carried in her stride. "I knew this would happen, you idiot! What did I tell you?"

"Knew _what_ would happen?" he blinked up at her, gnashing his teeth in irritation.

"Taking a nap there or what? Seems you've been losing some sleep... pushing yourself too hard again and sneaking out at night to train, eh? You are an absolute moron!" Bulma berated.

He wasn't paying any attention to her words and the profanities she went on yelling at him. He zoned out as he gaped up at her, his palm lowering from his face as he sat there gawking, taking notice of her new haircut. It certainly suited her and amplified her already stunning features, perfectly framing her soft oval face. Of course he'd noticed how beautiful she was before, but this was on an entirely new level, and he couldn't look away. His jaw went slack.

Bulma placed her hands on her jutting hips, "Hey! Are you even listening to me?" Though she smugly noted that he could not keep his eyes off her pretty face, and she knew he was silently appreciating her new hairstyle.

Having him in the palm of her hand like this, she felt much more daring. Hiding her smirk, she turned and went to fetch a bandage roll from the medical cabinet that she'd installed the night before, knowing an event like this would occur. Vegeta's eyes followed her, taking in her figure. He swallowed at the sudden dryness building in his throat.

Bulma returned with the bandage roll. "Lower your hand," she spoke authoritatively. When he did not comply, she took charge and grabbed his arm.

At her touch, he quivered and snapped back into awareness. "What are you doing!" he protested. Her soft fingers against his skin sent a shiver down his spine.

"Moron, I'm taking care of that cut!"

"_What_ cut?"

"You're bleeding profusely, haven't you noticed?"

He hadn't. He'd barely gotten in seven minutes of training when he had collapsed from sheer exhaustion, his body and mind distressed from overexertion and insomnia. He vaguely remembered he'd hit his head against something. The splitting headache that followed overpowered all of his senses, so it was no wonder he didn't even feel the blood trickling down his face.

And he was even less inclined to notice the blood once the astoundingly pretty female had entered, and every bit of his attention was now locked onto her.

He reached a hand up to assess the amount of blood he'd shed, when his fingers grazed Bulma's. His hand lurched away instantly as it came into contact with her skin. Deep inside his chest he could now feel his heart beat with agitation and uneasiness, pounding hard against his ribcage, almost hurting and aggrivating him as much as the headache.

"You really should get more sleep, you know," Bulma scolded, "If you don't let your body rest and recuperate, you'll end up killing yourself, and all that training of yours will have been for nothing. See, you must have been so out-of-it with exhaustion that you went and bumped your head!"

Vegeta's only response to that was an irate grunt. He could feel his skin flush with heat in every spot that Bulma's fingers touched. He wished she wouldn't lay her hands on so many places on his face and just get the medical repairs over with, for he could feel his body wanting her to continue touching him, much to his resentment.

She finished cleaning the blood from his face and bandaged the cut, chiding, "Alright, I think it's time you call it quits for today and come inside."

He glared at her, "I don't call it quits. I thought you were aware of that by now."

"Yeah, I know, and that's why you haven't become a Super Saiyan yet."

"What!" he shouted accusingly. How could she say that!

"Look, I don't have time for your nonsense. Any fighter with brains knows that resting is just as important as training. It's important to keep that balance or you'll never effectively reach your goals."

He knew she was right, but nevertheless he stood up on his feet, as if to prove that his determination alone was enough to continue his training. But he was met with a crippling feeling in his knees. He knew he couldn't train like this.

"It's your own fault for rushing head first into your training regimen and overlooking the importance of sleep," Bulma said matter-of-factly, "Here, I'll help you if you can't walk." She tried to throw her arm across his shoulders, but he brushed it off, cringing from her touch. Bulma huffed, feeling insulted from his recoil. "Well! Don't accept my help, then! Oh, and I'll have you know I don't have some kind of contagious skin disease, if you're so afraid of having me touch you."

He was only afraid that if she kept touching him, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from killing her. Of course, that would have to be right after he was finished ravishing her.

Bulma sighed, "C'mon, I'll make you a nutritional meal packed with vitamins and nutrients to help speed up your recovery. Then it's back to bed, got it?"

He could not refuse the prospect of a meal. He caved in. "Fine, if it will get you to cease that troublesome chattering of yours! But you'd better work on those upgrades!"

"Hmph!" she snorted and marched out of the Gravity Capsule, Vegeta following behind her.

* * *

Vegeta sat down at the dinner table, leaning back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His head still stung fiercely and his vision was a little bleary, but he took no notice of it, not with this irresistible female in his line of sight. He impatiently drummed his fingers against the table as he watched Bulma's every movement, unable to look away.

Bulma opened the fridge and grabbed a few vegetables and cuts of meat, placing them on the counter. Vegeta's incessant tapping against the table began to get on her nerves, and she turned to him, "You know, you can go watch something on tv while I'm cooking. That tapping noise is distracting."

He ceased the tapping, then folded his arms and humphed, "No, I think I'll stay here and impose my presence upon you. Besides, I need to make sure you won't poison my food." And watching this beautiful woman prepare his meal was much more entertaining than watching tv.

"Suit yourself," she replied nonchalantly and resumed her work. After several minutes, she left the kitchen to fetch some cooking utensils her mother had stashed away.

Once she left the room, Vegeta glanced down at the table. There was a newspaper, a half-empty mug of coffee, an ashtray, and a bottle of pills residing on the tabletop. He assumed the objects belonged to Bulma's father, for the old man's scent lingered on the items. The vibrant fluorescent orange color of the pill bottle caught Vegeta's eye, and he picked it up, curiously examining the blue pills within it. _What the hell is this? Some sort of stupid Earthling medicine?_ he thought. For a second he considered taking some, if it would cure his escalating headache, but he wisely decided it would be safer to ask what it was first.

Bulma returned, and Vegeta held up the bottle. "Woman. What is this?"

She took the pill bottle from him and read the label. Then she snorted with laughter.

Unamused, Vegeta grumbled, "Would that medicine heal my damned headache?"

"Headache? Oh, no, not this. I'm sorry, my dad must've left this out here," she snickered.

"Well? What is it for?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow. If it was for the old Earthling man, why couldn't he have any?

"This is a prescription PDE5 inhibitor. I don't think you'll want any... or need it." Bulma added with a chortle.

"Just tell me what it is!" Vegeta snarled.

"Okay, you asked for it!" She pulled up a chair and sat next to him, "It's for older men who have gone, how do I put it... 'limp'... get it?"

"No, I don't 'get it'," he pouted, "Explain, now."

She found his child-like frustration to be cute, so she continued beating around the bush, "Well, sometimes and old man will stay... flaccid, and these pills help to make him-" she snorted, "stand at attention."

The pounding headache and his impatience escalated, so Vegeta snatched the bottle from her. "Alright then, since you insist on being vague, I'll assume these will alleviate my headache, and I can resume my training." He forced the lid off the bottle and dumped the pills into his hand.

"No, don't!" Bulma shrieked, lunging for the pills, but Vegeta held his hand out of her reach. He scowled at her, "Now tell me what this is for, and not in your annoyingly cryptic riddles this time."

"Fine. I warned you," she spoke calmly, "It's Viagra. It's used to treat erectile dysfunction. Though I'll put it more bluntly for you - It helps a man's cock get hard. There, satisfied?"

He had heard enough. He was grimacing in horror as he dumped all the pills back into the container. Bulma laughed.

"I hardly find that amusing!" Vegeta spat.

"I only find your reaction amusing," Bulma giggled, "Well, don't you Saiyans ever experience similar problems?"

He wasn't even sure if his kind had ever fallen to strange diseases or deformities, but he said, "It's impossible for Saiyans to suffer hideous ailments like you weak humans do."

"Well, I guess that makes sense, you guys are built to handle anything." She left her chair and went back over to the counter to prepare the prince's meal, "Huh. I wish I was a Saiyan..."

Vegeta watched her perplexedly. For a moment he imagined what it would be like if she was a Saiyan. She would probably have a blue tail to match her hair... Well, what did it matter if she had a tail or not? It wasn't like a tail would make her any more or less attractive than she already was. And her tail would get in the way of him checking out her ass.

He suddenly realized that the whole time he'd been musing over these thoughts, he had been staring at her butt. He forced his eyes to dart away, feeling sweat build up on the back of his neck, not liking where his train of thought was going and angry at himself for thinking perverse things of this less than worthy human.

Without warning, he felt a sudden painful sting at the front of his head, striking him like a bolt of lightning. He almost doubled over, but resisted such a degrading and humiliating act, instead taking much of his willpower to resort to clasping a hand against his forehead.

"Hey, how about I throw in some strawberries for dessert? They're nutritional," Bulma grinned and turned her head to look over her shoulder at Vegeta, only to see him leaning over the table in pain. She stopped what she had been doing and was at his side in seconds. "What's wrong? Where does your head hurt?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm _fine_," he muttered, though he was far from fine. He felt as if blood was bursting through his skull, and there was a ringing sound in his ears, greatly throwing his sense of balance off.

"Sure you are." Bulma sighed, "Okay. You have a headache, right? When did it start? How soon after you got that head injury?"

He could hardly focus on her words. He was having a difficult time concentrating on even his surroundings, due to his vision worsening, and the room seemed to spin into a dizzying vortex, causing a nauseous feeling to build up in the pit of his stomach.

"What did you hit your head against?" Bulma spoke slowly and clearly this time.

"I don't know..." Vegeta responded in a groan. He didn't even remember how it happened.

He stood up, unintentionally knocking the chair down as he rose, gripping his head in both hands now. He gritted his teeth and one of his eyes blinked shut.

"Hey! Take it easy!" Bulma shouted, startled by his hasty movements.

He stumbled a few feet before toppling down to his knees from the excruciating pain.

"Vegeta!" Bulma dropped down to kneel at his side, taking one of his arms and draping it over her shoulders. She tried to help him up, calling for her father, "Dad! Get in here, quick!"

Vegeta clutched Bulma's shoulder, his fingers grasping the thin fabric of her shirt. "Damn it! I don't need your help!" he said through grating teeth.

"I told you not to train! And now look what's happened!" Bulma bit her lip, her eyes faintly brimming with tears.

Vegeta glared up at her through his one open eye, his grip on her shoulder tightened like a vice at her words. _What in the hell is she crying for? Blasted woman!_

"What is it, Bulma?" Dr. Briefs scurried into the room, and upon seeing Vegeta on the floor he gasped, "Oh, what's happened?"

"He's suffering some kind of head trauma," Bulma choked back a sob that was crawling up her throat, wiping her tears away with her free arm.

* * *

In the span of less than five minutes, Dr. Briefs called for a few of his assistants, and they had helped escort Vegeta into the infirmary, while Bulma called a neurologist over the phone. An hour went by of tests being run and Vegeta being examined by many of the top doctors of West City (while he was unconscious, of course, otherwise he would have retaliated violently), and they'd all unanimously concluded that Vegeta had suffered an intracranial hemorrhage and a concussion following his injury.

"I'm surprised he hasn't fallen into a coma, or worse," Dr. Briefs said to Bulma, closing the infirmary door behind him as he exited to the hall, where his daughter was idly waiting. "That young man has miraculous luck."

"Is he going to be okay?" Bulma piqued, her voice strained with worry, and she was resisting the urge to bawl.

"I really don't know. He seems to be in a good deal of pain. I gave him a painkiller that should make his suffering less unendurable, it ought to fully kick-in in a while. I advise you let him be to get his rest. I have top of the line equipment monitoring his vital signs." Noting the distressed look on Bulma's face, he quickly added, "Don't worry, dear, I'm sure he'll pull through, just as he always does."

"That fool. I warned him," Bulma bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

"Well, while I agree that it wasn't the brightest thing for the lad to do - training so soon before fully recovering - you have to admire that brash determination of his."

"He's going to get himself killed if he keeps up this reckless training. Then his admirable determination won't amount to anything," Bulma retaliated.

"Well, yes, I suppose you're right. But he's training to save us from those androids, isn't he?"

"Save _us_? I wish! He only cares about fighting and showing off how much of a tough guy he thinks he is!" Though deep down, Bulma really did wish that Vegeta would show a little kindness and gratitude toward her family, after they'd shown him so much generosity and compassion. But she knew it was probably too much to hope for.

"Well, I had better get back to my work, then. Do make sure Vegeta gets his rest, will you?" Her father headed back to his lab.

After a few minutes of standing in the hall in worried silence, Bulma tentatively went to the infirmary door.

_Sorry dad, I know you don't want me to disturb him yet, but I have to see for myself that he's okay,_ she thought as she opened the door as quietly as she could and peered in.

Vegeta was lying on the bed, hooked up to a bunch of monitoring systems. He appeared to be unconscious, not showing any response to her presence.

Bulma slowly entered the room. She pulled up a chair and sat on it next to the bed, staring down at his haggard face. He looked worn and fatigued, as if now was his first moment of rest in months.

"You're a moron, you know that?" Bulma whispered, more to herself than to him. "I don't know why I worry about you... You jerk."

Vegeta winced slightly, his eyebrows pinching together, and Bulma covered her mouth with her hands, afraid he'd heard her. But after a minute of silence she could see that he remained asleep, unperturbed by her voice.

She continued to watch him sleep, observing the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, aided by the breathing mask hooked on his face. Then she reached an arm out and placed her hand on his forehead. His skin was hot to the touch, and she was startled at how high his temperature was.

_He wasn't kidding about his headache. Poor guy_... she lifted her hand away from his skin.

As if in response to her touch, Vegeta stirred once again, mumbling in his sleep, "Blast it... you bastard..." his hands gripped the bedsheets, the permanent scowl on his face intensifying.

Bulma watched him for a few moments, worry and pity creasing her brow. _Even in his sleep he's fighting_... She felt bad for him, wishing she could do something to help.

She got up from the chair and crossed the room. About halfway she stopped and turned to look at Vegeta, and she muttered, "I hope you win that battle, even if it's just a dream."

She headed out the door and added quietly, "I'll come by to check on you later."

* * *

It was nearing 8 pm, and the weather outside had shifted back to heavy showers. The rain only seemed to add to the depressing mood in the Capsule Corp household. Bulma had finished preparing Vegeta's meal hours ago and laid it out on the table, but it went untouched. By now he seemed to be in a stable condition, though Bulma could not help but worry for him, so she decided to check on him again.

She opened the door to the infirmary. Oddly the lights were off when she entered the room.

"Vegeta?" She called out in a timid voice. She flipped the light switch, and as the lights flooded through the room she found that he was not in his bed, nor anywhere in the infirmary.

Bulma felt a panic rise in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm. _Okay... relax, Bulma. This is a good sign, right? It means he's all better_... But she feared he would be foolish enough to go back to train in the capsule again.

She headed downstairs, trying to ease her worry when she found her mother.

"Oh Bulma, would you like some cake?" the blonde woman asked, holding out her tray of sweets like they were some sort of sacrificial offering.

"Not now. Mom, did Vegeta come downstairs at all?" she asked anxiously.

"No, I don't believe he did."

Bulma turned away and trudged back upstairs, grinding her teeth. _If he didn't come downstairs, maybe he was stupid enough to climb out the window. For his sake I hope not_!

She checked every room on the floor, and finally she came to Vegeta's room at the end of the hall. She stopped in front of the door, her heartbeat escalating. She knew that besides the training capsule, his room was the next likely place he would retreat to. She gathered up her courage and closed her fingers around the doorknob.

It was pitch black in the room, save for the light shining in from the hall behind her. Bulma stepped in warily, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.

Then she saw him. He was sitting on his bed, glaring at the rain outside the window.

Bulma spoke in a meek voice, "Hey, Vegeta? Are you alright?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. His eyes were framed with strong dark circles, and his skin looked drained of color and liveliness. His eyelids were half-draped over his eyes, for the pain killers had taken their effect - he was light-headed and dizzy. He almost didn't notice that Bulma had entered his room.

She felt a pang of fear. He looked quite frightening, sitting hunched over in the darkness like a ghastly apparition.

"What is it?" his voice was oddly unrestrained, almost soft, though the look on his face was daunting.

Taken aback by the uncharacteristic tone of his voice, Bulma replied, "I uh... I just came to check on you. Why aren't you back in the infirmary?"

"I don't need to be in there," he said calmly.

"You sure? You feel okay now?"

"Don't be so unnecessarily concerned over my well-being."

"Well, I'm sorry for worrying about you!" her voice had a bite to it once more.

He didn't say anything in retaliation, he only continued to stare at her. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Bulma turned to leave the room.

"Hold it."

She stopped and turned, drawing in her breath. All of his attention was on her now, his whole body turned toward her. He looked incredibly intimidating.

"Get over here," he lowered his head and said slowly, "Bulma."

* * *

**A/N**- I don't know a lot about head injuries and such, so I probably got a few things wrong, like proper medical procedures. But I figured, hey, Dragon Ball takes place in the future age with advanced technology (sky cars and Hoi-Poi capsules), so I think medicinal stuff would also be much more advanced, maybe even to the point where under-the-knife surgery isn't strictly required, among other things. Well that's my two cents anyway. Or... more of an excuse. Ah, whatever!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N-** Some dark, macabre stuff in this chapter guise, nothing too hideously brutal, but I'm just giving a fair warning anyway. I'm totally taking advantage of the M rating at this point.

* * *

Bulma was frozen in the doorway. She was unable to budge an inch, her eyes wide and manifesting her bewilderment. Somehow, she feared that if she took even one step outside his room, he would pounce on her. She knew it was unreasonable to think such a thing, he'd never bothered to touch her. But then again, it was Vegeta she was dealing with. He was unpredictable, to say the least.

She swallowed and tried to collect her thoughts. _Did I hear him correctly? Did he just say my name? No... I must be hearing things._

With a quirky movement generated by uncertainty, she slowly moved away from the doorway, and a little further into the room like he had commanded. She didn't come into the room to follow Vegeta's demand, though - it was to satisfy her curiosity.

"Close the door," he ordered gruffly.

Hesitantly Bulma complied, closing the door behind her, cutting off the light shining in from the hall. Suddenly she was on her guard and wary of his intentions. She asked, "Should I turn the lights on?"

"What a nuisance..." Vegeta muttered quietly to himself, then he said loud enough for her to hear, "No, the light is irritating my eyes."

The only source of light now was from the faint blue outside and the warm light shining through the crack underneath the room door. Bulma folded her arms and stepped closer, until she was standing in the middle of the room, only several feet away from the bed where he sat. "Makes sense, I guess. Though I hope you don't want to keep the lights off as an excuse to do naughty things to me in the dark!"

Vegeta ignored her remark. "What medicine did your father administer to me?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow, "Medicine? Dad told me he gave you a painkiller."

He rubbed a palm against his forehead, ticked-off now. "It's not working right," he said bitterly.

"You still have a headache?" Bulma asked.

"No, it's not that," he responded hesitantly.

"Maybe you're experiencing some side effects?" She could tell that he definitely wasn't in his right state of mind, with him talking to her and speaking her name. She came to the conclusion that this odd behavior he was exhibiting could be a result of the medication lifting his inhibitions.

Vegeta groaned in irritation, "Side effects? Like what?"

"Well, the symptoms vary depending on the type of medication. What did my dad give you?"

"A _lot_."

Bulma rolled her eyes, "A lot, huh. Well, that doesn't answer my question. I mean what _type_ did he give you? Do you know?"

_I knew I shouldn't have trusted these stupid Earthlings! _He wasn't listening to her. He rubbed his knuckles against his forehead, slipping out of awareness, not cognizant.

The thoughts were coming back to him yet again, and he couldn't stop them this time. His eyes were out of focus now, as if he wasn't in the room with her. He looked beyond his surroundings, he looked _through_ her, like he didn't remember she was there, that he had called her into his room. He was staring through a void and plummeting into a past filled with despair, taking him back into another place in time, reminiscing.

"Vegeta?"

* * *

He was in his early teens. He had just returned to the outpost on Planet Frieza #75, after a hectic month of slaughtering the inhabitants of a promising planet. His gloves and battle armor were still stained with the blood of his most recent victims. He knew he needed to clean the bloodstains soon, for his armor was an old hand-me-down model, and he was only issued one set. He wasn't allowed to get any replacement armor, that is unless he was willing to pay a heavy sum of extra hard labor.

"Nappa! Take these to the cleaning room and wash them immediately!" the young Saiyan prince shouted.

The burly escort bounded over to Vegeta at his heels, just in time to catch the prince's armor and gloves that he tossed over his shoulder.

"And take that half-wit Raditz with you! I'm sure that with both your efforts combined, you two can learn how to turn the dryer on!"

"Yes, Prince Vegeta!" Nappa lumbered away, glad to be of any service to his master, even if it was to do his laundry. Vegeta had been right that Raditz's assistance would be needed; Nappa did not know how to use a dryer or washer, just one of the many factors attributing to his colossal body odor.

_Now to report to Frieza_, Vegeta thought crossly.

He came to the chamber where Frieza usually resided. Frieza was nowhere in the room, instead Zarbon was there with Cui, the two playing some sort of strategic board game.

Zarbon looked up and smirked, "Well, if it isn't the little monkey, finally back from his errand!"

"Took you long enough," Cui laughed, "Just one month!"

_Learn to still your tongues or I will rip them out!_ Vegeta wanted to say, but he knew that if he gave any back-sass to Zarbon again, he would be on hall cleaning duty for the rest of the year. Not to mention he'd have to pick up trash left on the battlefield, like the last time he'd given Zarbon an attitude.

"Where is Lord Frieza?" Vegeta said.

"He's out," Cui sneered down at the little prince, "You will report to Master Zarbon in his stead."

Vegeta snorted, ignoring Cui, whom he found to be no more than a pest. "When he gets back, tell him I have cleared the planet Laizar of its occupants and it is ready for sale." He turned to leave.

"Hold on, your next assignment has been issued, Vegeta," Zarbon said, "Lord Frieza relayed this message to me yesterday. He said you and your monkey friends Nappa and Raditz are to go immediately to the planet Ovair that Lord Frieza conquered last week, and you are to clean up the waste left there to prepare it for sale. Got it?"

Vegeta stiffened. Now he was to do dirty work yet again, clearing away the bloodied corpses that Frieza left behind. And he knew it would be no easy task. Frieza had a tendency to completely obliterate his enemies in the most inhumane ways possible, beating their bodies into bloody, pulpy masses, and decorating every planet he came across with the organs of its slain former residents.

Zarbon and Cui were also aware of the huge task Vegeta had ahead of him, in fact, everyone in the Planet Trade Organization knew how Frieza liked to bathe a planet in blood before selling it. The two soldiers chuckled at the misfortune the young Saiyan Prince suffered, being led on a leash across the galaxies, forced to clean rotting carcasses on Frieza's conquered planets, the overruler leaving a messy trail of blood in his wake for Vegeta to deal with.

The young Saiyan left the chamber, grinding his teeth as he headed for the living quarters he was forced to share with Nappa and Raditz. Vegeta hated the fact that he had to be confined to such a small space with no privacy. It an unsuitable living condition for a prince. The room was always crawling with rats and there was a constant draft, for the walls were poorly insulated, and quickly the two older Saiyans got on Vegeta's nerves due to their messiness, unable to properly clean up after themselves.

As usual, he had Frieza to thank for this inconvenience. Frieza had the sick pleasure of always making sure to give the three Saiyans the worst living quarters to live in, the worst equipment and space pods to use, and, of course, broken and defective scouters. And Vegeta was always given a pink scouter. _Pink!_ Frieza knew it was one of Vegeta's least favorite colors.

And the next day, he was to leave to yet another planet for the dreaded duty of cleaning corpses. But as always, he had to suck it up and bear with it.

_Frieza, you miserable lout! _Vegeta growled, easily snatching up a rat that had been scrambling across a table in the center of the room. _Making me clean up the trash you discard! Well, someday it will be YOUR corpse I will dispose of! _With one quick movement of his wrist, he snapped the rat's spine.

The next morning, as the three Saiyans prepared to embark for Ovair to clean the planet of its bloodied filth, Vegeta overheard Zarbon and Dodoria gossiping loudly in the corridors. The Saiyan prince was hardly interested in their bothersome drivel, but still he lightly eavesdropped on their chatter.

And he somewhat wished he hadn't. From what he overheard of the conversation, he learned that earlier that morning, Frieza went to the planet Laizar, the planet that Vegeta had just spent a month to conquer. And he had destroyed it.

"Lord Frieza told me Vegeta and his little friends were supposed to clean that planet in two weeks, but they spent over a month instead. With their monkey stench left on the planet for such a long time, it had lost its value, and he had no choice but to destroy it!" Dodoria's haughty laughter reverberated through the halls, "Said he had no use for a planet soiled by monkey hands."

Vegeta clenched his fists. After all that work he'd done, an entire month of wasted effort, gone, just like that.

And he could do nothing, could not complain or retaliate. He was not in any position to do anything.

* * *

"Pile the corpses into a mound, then you can burn them to a crisp. You will spare less energy that way instead of sloppily blasting the bodies one at a time!" the young Vegeta ordered to Nappa and Raditz.

The three Saiyans had landed on the planet Ovair, in an area surrounded by trees that formed a thick canopy high above their heads. The planet was hot and humid, and the Saiyan trio had already come across the massive slaughter of the planet's inhabitants, and quickly they set to work.

Nappa and Raditz bumbled around, failing at their task as they unsuccessfully tried to pick up deteriorating limbs and flesh. They were working too slowly due to the sickness in their stomachs at having to carry the rotting cadavers, and also because the body parts were still wet and easily slipped through their fingers.

"Could you immensely stupid imbeciles move any slower_?_! Have you morons forgotten that we have a deadline to meet?" Vegeta growled, "Looks like I have to do everything myself in order to get this job done quickly! Brainless infidels!"

He marched over to where the two older Saiyans were clearing away carcasses, and he shoved them aside, "Get out of here, nimrods, and leave this to someone capable of handling the task! Go work on clearing away the bodies on the other side of this planet; on that side is a desert, so the corpses there should be fried after being cooked under the prolonged exposure to the sun. It will be an easy task for densely incompetent simpletons such as yourselves. Think of it as picking up scraps of jerky."

"Jerky? Sounds delicious!" Nappa licked his lips.

"Are you sure you don't want us to assist you here?" Raditz asked.

"Useless, inattentive fools! Do as I tell you, or your corpses will be added to the numbers of the deceased at your feet!" Vegeta barked. He was in no mood to deal with their back-talking.

The two Saiyans took off into the air, leaving Vegeta to deal with the fresher corpses.

He glared down to look upon the job set ahead of him. The bodies here were not nearly as dried and mummified as the ones in the desert that Nappa and Raditz would clear away. These corpses were still wet with decay and filled with body fluids, not having been thoroughly baked under the sun, protected under the shade of the canopy of trees. Vegeta knew that Raditz and Nappa were incapable of cleaning this area quickly. Only he was qualified to do a speedy job of it, and for this reason he half cursed the fact that he was far more skilled than the other two.

_I shouldn't have to do this degrading work and dirty my royal hands! Those negligent idiots Nappa and Raditz deserve it, but not me! _

But there was no way out of it. They had a deadline to meet. And if he failed this time, the work he would be burdened with in the future would be far worse than this, and much more devastating to his pride.

He picked up limbs, decapitated heads, torsos, shredded skin, torn muscle and organs, tossing them into a huge pile, other times kicking the gnarled, broken body parts over to the makeshift mound. The sickening smell of blood and the nauseating stench of decay pervaded his nostrils, and it was difficult for him not to keel over.

After an hour, Vegeta worked his way deeper into the wooded area, where the bodies were further sheltered in the shade, safe from the sweltering heat of the sun. The bodies in this area were much more preserved, not like the shapeless masses from earlier that had suffered the onslaught of the weather and elements. These bodies still had faces, their eyes, lips and noses still intact, and some of them, in what was left of their empty eyes, clouded over in death, still wore the expression of torment and fear they'd had as they faced their demise. Their eyes that had not long ago searched the sky for some glimmer of hope, praying for salvation. But their prayers and hopes were forsaken when Frieza had crushed the life from them.

Vegeta could smell a particularly slimy corpse hidden somewhere in the bushes. With one hand, he easily uprooted a shrub from the soil. There he found the stiff body of a woman, claimed by rigor mortis. He kicked the body over to its side, and to his astonishment he saw that there was not just one body. The woman was clutching a small child, a little girl, the mother's fingers tightly wrapped around the child in a protective embrace.

The little girl's face was the picture of innocence, despite being surrounded by death, her face was the only one of the nearby cadavers that went untouched by decay. Vegeta leaned in closer, his eyes widening in a mixture of both disgust and curious horror. The girl looked alive, almost. But he was ascertained that she was dead when he smelled the stench of death lifting off her body, rising into his lungs. She had not been spared, either. The mother must have suffered a mortal injury and dragged herself under the bushes to hide from Frieza, to protect her daughter, where the mother ended up dying from her wound. But despite the mother's attempts, the child met the same fate.

As Vegeta looked closer, he saw now that the little girl had not been completely unscathed by atrophy. There was a gash in her torso, and her guts had spilled out through the puncture wound. Her bowels, intestines, and stomach were on display. And among the soft tissue were thousands of maggots, worms, and other squirming, parasitic bottom-feeding insects. They were feasting on the flesh and the byproducts of decomposition flourishing on the decaying matter, the insects' incessant movements in the reeking body fluid and mucous caused a frothing foam of bubbles to rise up and coat the organs.

Vegeta could not take his eyes from the disgustingly hypnotic sight. This was the extent of Frieza's tyranny, this is what happened to all who fell under the usurper's wrath. They were showed no mercy. Murdered, their bodies reduced to compost for carrion feeders and the necrophageous worms to feast on.

But he had been deceived again; the little girl's face had not gone untouched by decay, after all. He watched as a worm slithered out from underneath one of the girl's eyelids and made a path across her face, leaving a trail of slime on her skin, before it disappeared into her nostril.

Not waiting to bring the mother and child's bodies over to the pile of corpses, Vegeta blasted them on the spot. Their corpses were disintegrated in an instant.

He leaned against a tree trunk, panting, sweat trailing down his neck and back, his muscles cramped and stiffening, unable to move. He could not stop himself from throwing up.

* * *

By sunset, the cleanup was done, and the mass cremation was well underway. Suffocatingly thick black clouds of smoke rising from the mountains of corpses crept past the horizon as far as the eye could see, and Vegeta's eyes were empty as he watched the scene. The acrid stench of his own vomit was still on his breath, but he knew Nappa and Raditz would not notice, because during those moments, no smell was stronger than that of the mounds of burning corpses. And Vegeta wished that along with the corpses, he could burn from his mind the image of the deceased child covered in maggots and worms.

Life was cruel. Fate spared no one from death, not even children. Only the strong survived. That was a lesson he needed to remember well.

He turned his eyes to the heavens, wishing for some guidance from his father. He knew what the King of Saiyans would tell him. 'Weakling! Don't be such a coward! You grew up to the sight and smell of death, I expected you to be used to it by now! You disappoint me!'

No, the King would not say that - he would stress an even greater matter of much more importance. 'Do not let Frieza reduce you to servitude! You are a Saiyan, you are not meant to clean up the litter from his battles! You alone have the strength to end his reign and avenge your people!'

But the words of his father did not matter anymore. Vegeta no longer held the memories of his father highly; now he only felt contempt. His father had sold him out, leaving his fate in Frieza's hands and effectively bargaining him over to a life of slavery. But Frieza was partially to blame for the Saiyan King's cowardice. The King had changed - He'd become afraid. His cowardliness led him to give up his own son, a selfish act of self-preservation, giving up his son's life to save his own.

But in this way his father had also saved Vegeta from dying with the rest of his people. As the Saiyan planet was destroyed, the young prince was safe, carrying out a mission on a faraway planet. Did his father give him up to Frieza to save him, because the King knew he and his people would be wiped out? Or did he only do it out of fear for his own life? Or maybe he left Vegeta under Frieza's tyranny, using his son as a mole of sorts, hoping one day it would be him to kill Frieza.

But Vegeta found no comfort in that, it was more of a bittersweet realization. He was not completely dissuaded from feeling resentment toward his father. His father had cursed him by giving him to Frieza. Slavery was a fate worse than death.

Vegeta was left to live by one rule now; to kill or be killed. He knew that if he were to continue to survive under Frieza's savage hand, he would have to grow to be above feeling compassion and remorse. The strong survived by feeling nothing, by being indifferent. Fear, pain, sadness, despair, they were emotions reserved for the weak.

After some time since the fires had been lit, Nappa and Raditz returned from the other side of the planet. It was evident they'd worked up a fervent sweat. They were panting, clearly exhausted from the day's toiling.

"We have taken care of the garbage, as you requested," Raditz reported, "Forgive us, Prince Vegeta, we would have gotten it done sooner if Nappa had not taken a detour to go sight-seeing."

"Hey! I wasn't sight-seeing!" Nappa defended, "I was thirsty, I needed to find some water!"

"Silence, you half-wits!" Vegeta barked at them, "Can I not expect you to carry out any task expediently?"

"My apologies..." Raditz bowed in shame.

"And Nappa, remember this well. The next time you become parched with thirst, deal with it! Your duty comes first, above even the primitive requirements of your hideous body! Understand?"

"Yes, Vegeta!" Nappa whimpered, disgraced by his own failure.

"For crying out loud, it took both of you morons several hours to clean up those dried corpses, while I alone dealt with the putrefied ones! Next time I expect you ignoramuses to get it done in thirty minutes. Otherwise the value of your lives will be called into question."

"Y-Yes, Prince Vegeta!" Both Raditz and Nappa stammered.

"Now, as soon as the corpses have finished burning and are reduced to ashes, you are to extinguish the fires. Then we will leave this planet. Frieza expects us to be back by tomorrow."

"Man, that prick!" Nappa pounded his knuckles together, "I can't stand doing Frieza's dirty work! One of these days I'll-"

"Be patient! Soon the day will come when we overthrow that unworthy usurper." Vegeta glared down at his clenched fist, his fingers curled and quivering as he muttered, "And then I will rule the universe, as I was destined to!"

* * *

"Vegeta, are you listening? Is something wrong?"

His lips were parted slightly, his mouth left gaping open in horror, and by now his throat had gone dry. A single bead of sweat rolled down from his hairline and collected at the nape of his neck. The repressed memories he had long thought he'd forgotten entirely were resurfacing.

The memory had traumatized him, permanently scarred his soul, and to this day he was unable to look at any slithering, squirming, bottom-feeding insects without remembering the horrors of cleaning duty. But above that, it was a reminder of the reality he had lived. Of how his throne had been taken from him, and how he had lived his life as a slave.

"Vegeta, snap out of it!"

He couldn't hear her. It was like he was slipping in and out of a comatose state with every memory, the remnants of his childhood he'd suppressed, forced into the corners of his mind, were coming back to haunt him. His eyes had been listless when he had the flashback. He was unaware that he was trembling slightly, until he felt a hand on his arm, and the shuddering of his muscles stopped and he was pulled out of his daze, coming back to the present.

Bulma was sitting on the bed next to him. She had her hand on his arm, and she was staring at him with concern. "Hey, calm down. I'm here."

It took him a moment to compose himself and come back into reality, to tell himself that he was not there, that it was only a memory of his past, and little by little he calmed down.

And he realized Bulma was in the room with him. Sitting on his bed at his side. Why?

Then he vaguely recalled that he'd told her to come into the room, though he didn't remember for what purpose. For what? He didn't know. How could he have forgotten?

Vegeta released a long, heavy sigh, and he closed his eyes to avoid looking at her as he spoke. He said apprehensively, "Do you Earthlings have medicine to heal the mind?"

Bulma blinked, as if to wipe away her confusion, "What?"

"For the conscience. To cease these... abominable thoughts I'm having," he spat out hastily. How regrettable that he had to resort to asking for such a thing.

Bulma sighed through her nose. "Would you care to elaborate?" She made sure to say it very softly.

He only grunted.

Bulma pried further, "It would help if you could tell me what sort of thoughts you're having... So I could get the correct medicine to counteract with the adverse effects of the painkiller."

She was sure that he would continue putting up his barrier, but to her surprise he relaxed his taut shoulders, sighing, "That loathsome clod... Frieza."

Bulma gave an understanding nod, "Okay. Good. Anything else?"

He paused, then added with resentment, "That bastard Kakarott and the time-traveling runt."

Bulma was satisfied with his admittance, but she was surprised when he suddenly continued venting to her, his voice raw as he hissed, "_I_ should have put Frieza away with my own hands!" He clutched his fingers into fists so hard his knuckles turned white. "If anyone deserved to dispose of Frieza, it should have been a true Saiyan. _Me_. I deserved my revenge after the way that bastard put me through hell!"

Bulma asked gingerly, "What did he do to you?" She had heard only a little of what Vegeta went through, from a poor rendition by Krillin of what he'd overheard him say as he was dying on Namek.

Vegeta seemed to hesitate for a moment, but continued his rant, gripping the bedsheets now to control his building anger. "He made me his servant and errand boy when I was child, and he wiped out the Saiyans to near extinction. He did this all simply because he viewed us as a _threat_... a threat to his pompous self-entitled throne as ruler of the universe."

"Sure he wasn't killed at your hand, but-"

"I should have been the one to kill him! Not that _faker_. How dare that runt deceive all into thinking he's a true Saiyan! Only an upper-class warrior like myself should bear the title of the fabled Super Saiyan, I alone deserve it. That unworthy mongrel Kakarott and that brat make a mockery of the legendary status as they parade around, acting as if my efforts are nothing!" Sheer hatred was in the tone of his voice now as he growled, "Maybe I should have died with the rest of the Saiyans on the day Frieza destroyed my planet."

Bulma was shocked. "Why would you say that?"

He nearly overlooked her entirely now as he let loose with a rant he had held in for so long, "It's better if I was in hell with my people instead of the hell I am living here, being second best to Kakarott, knowing how he is always one step ahead of me. I am constantly reminded of the fact that he handed my ass back to me in battle, and I am sickened. Sickened at my own weakness, and sickened by _him_, of how he and that kid stole my revenge from me!"

"I was burdened with the weight of the hopes of my people, _I_ was the one forced into a life of slavery, while Kakarott lived a comfortable life on this planet. And the Saiyan race that had been crying out for vengeance to be payed in blood had placed their hopes in _me_, and when that sick bastard Frieza followed us to this planet, I knew I would finally have the chance to redeem myself and take my revenge. And then that lying brat had to show up, and he took my right to kill Frieza from me!"

Bulma was quiet as she listened to him speak. She could see the anger burning in his eyes, and the longing for what was just out of his reach.

"Kakarott... you stupid bastard. Laughing at me like the fool you are as you widen the gap between our powers. Once I take back my birthright, I will put you in your place. And you won't be laughing for long." Vegeta was mostly talking to himself now, and Bulma saw that his eyes had such an intense hate-filled glare, but she could also sense despondency.

Then he was gone again; his body still there but his essence was gone. He was reflecting on the past again, of something that wounded his pride almost as much as his life of servitude.

* * *

He was dying. That he was certain of.

He knew he didn't have much longer to live the moment he felt the tissue of his heart tearing, very aware of the pain the instant the vital organ was pierced by Frieza's attack. He could taste the blood in his mouth, his own blood, then he was hit with numbing coldness in his limbs. He was losing too much blood, he could feel it seeping out of his chest and leaking out onto the soil around his broken body.

Clotted blood was getting trapped in his airway, his lungs stuffed with the coagulating rusty fluid. Struggling to catch his breath, every gasp short, ragged, exasperated. Gurgling as the blood crawled up through his constricted throat, if he spoke he only sputtered, his blood spurting out through clenched teeth.

So this is how it felt to die. So much agonizing pain, and all he could do was wait it out, wait as each excruciating second crawled by. Wait to die alone.

This was how all his victims felt when he killed them.

He'd failed his people, failed to live up to their expectations, and failed to defeat Frieza. So he'd given up, cursing his hopelessness and fear as Frieza beat him to a pulp. He knew there was nothing left he could do.

With his fist he gripped the dirt and rocks at his side, holding on to the tangible soil for a few more seconds of life, his heart palpitating and sputtering feebly to struggle to keep him alive for those few brief moments. The only thing keeping him alive at that point was that he knew he _had_ to relay his message to Goku, to tell him of the fate of their race. And he hoped that Goku would put a stop to Frieza's reign. Vegeta was left with no choice but to put his faith in the other Saiyan, when he himself had failed.

He stayed alive for those brief moments, to speak in a rasping voice his own epitaph, before he would inevitably choke up from the death rattle in his throat.

"Kakarott... listen to me..."

* * *

He remembered the feeling of death all too well; the coldness, pain, loneliness, emptiness, the taste of his miserable defeat in his stomach and rising up in his esophagus.

And now, in the present, he felt a raw pain clawing at his insides; it was not just a physical sickness. He was utterly disgusted. Goku had failed him. The day when Vegeta felt Frieza's power radiating from the edges of the galaxy, approaching the Earth, he cursed Goku immediately, knowing the lesser Saiyan had spared Frieza's life. And Vegeta was pissed, at himself most of all, for leaving revenge in Goku's incapable hands.

Bulma watched him in silence. She could tell he was reliving a particularly painful memory - He was visibly suffering. She wanted to help him in any way, but she had no idea how she could. So she stayed by his side. All she could offer him now was her presence.

A surge of hate and an angry shudder rippled through the muscles of Vegeta's forearms, and he struggled to stay in control of his emotions as he bit out, "Kakarott, you bring shame to our deceased people... Smearing the Saiyan race and culture that you know nothing of! And yet you call yourself a Saiyan as you let your enemies slip out of your hands, giving them a second chance. You even let Frieza go, even after in my last moments of life, and in my desperation, I abandoned all sense of my pride and honor, reducing myself to tears in front of everyone as I _begged_ you to kill him..."

His eyes glistened lightly now as he spoke, but he didn't seem to notice or care, "I shamed myself asking such a thing from you, and my dying request fell on the deaf ears of a fool who dares to call himself a warrior. For all the Saiyans Frieza has slain and bloodied his hands with, you couldn't even heed my death wish to exact revenge for our race - for my father - _your_ father. For you to overlook my plea for vengeance like it was nothing, I will _never_ forgive you."

After a moment of silence, in which Bulma gaped in sympathetic awe at Vegeta, he seemed to remember she was in the room with him, and he blinked his tears away as if they were nothing, as if he hadn't even noticed them. And perhaps he didn't notice them at all. He could not think straight, a rush of emotions was flooding through him, and he could do nothing to stop it.

"You... you asked Goku to kill Frieza for you?" Bulma said in an almost inaudible whisper.

He avoided making eye contact with her as he muttered, "It was not just for my sake, but for the will of all the Saiyans he murdered. And Kakarott simply overlooked my remorse as if it were far beneath his notice! It was inexcusable of him! That third-class left-behind should be bowing before me and pleading for my forgiveness, for his failure to carry out my death wish! I am the Prince of Saiyans, that peasant should follow my every command, and yet he dares to challenge me. And he has... regrettably surpassed me, bested me in battle, and left me with nothing but humiliation as I struggle to catch up..."

Bulma now understood a little why Vegeta held so much hatred for Goku, and she felt the urge to comfort him, to mend his wounded pride, yet also to get him to understand Goku's motive. "He didn't do it out of contempt for you. That's just the way Goku is. He's kind to everyone, even his enemies. Remember, he gaveyoua second chance..."

Vegeta scoffed, "For what good it did! He took pity on me, and it utterly sickens me to think that he would look down on me in that way! Though he showed me mercy, in the end I only lived long enough to be humiliated and killed by Frieza. I would have rather died at Kakarott's hands instead of letting Frieza have the pleasure of taking my life. And he did, he was given the satisfaction of killing me, and I'm sure that now in hell he is laughing triumphantly about it!"

He sighed, letting his anger subside. "And now I'm all that's left, the last of the Saiyans with the ability to uphold the memory of my race and my home planet... Not that it matters when there is nobody in this universe who can fathom what it was like! Kakarott and his brat are the only other Saiyans left besides me, but they are just cretinous simpletons. They do not care to learn of Saiyan culture and customs, they do not comprehend the valiant Saiyan blood in their veins, and if they made any attempt to understand it, they would only make fools of themselves. They have no pride! Their very lives mock the Saiyan race!"

Bulma could see that, despite hiding it for so long, Vegeta was all alone. He had nobody he could relate to, no family or friends, nobody who cared about him, and the only other surviving Saiyans, Goku and his son Gohan, didn't understand how he felt. How could they? They grew up on Earth, they didn't know what it was like to be part of the Saiyan civilization.

They were surrounded by friends and loved ones, while Vegeta was left on his own. And his utter loneliness hurt Bulma, sending an unfamiliar compassionate empathy into her heart.

"I _hate_ what I am becoming!" Vegeta said suddenly.

Bulma blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

He clasped a hand against his forehead again, as if attempting to calm his thoughts. "Even since I was brought back to life... I have grown soft... _weak_..." he forced the word out, as if speaking it were making him retch, "Damn it all! These disgusting emotions make me want to puke!"

"Maybe you just have a newfound appreciation for life?" Bulma suggested.

"Why did they wish me back?" Vegeta muttered, not aware of her again.

He recalled the hazy memory. When he was brought to the otherworld, he waited to be judged by King Yemma, and then he was branded as evil and sent to hell. He had been oddly compliant after he had been judged, as if he were simply dreaming and would wake at any moment. But he'd known that reality had a tendency to be unkind and fate seldom worked in his favor. He knew he was evil, and accepted that he would go to hell and face eternal damnation. And then he could be with his people once again. And for the first time in decades, perhaps he would not be so alone anymore.

But before he could experience the worst horrors of the underworld, he'd been whisked away, back into his body on Namek. The only possible explanation for his revival, he'd realized, was that he must have been wished back to life by the Dragon Balls. He had spared the Earthlings no mercy before, so why had they shown him generosity by wishing him back to life?

And somehow, after going to hell and then being brought back to life, Vegeta felt a change in himself. He almost felt resentment for the countless people he'd slaughtered. Ever since he experienced hell, the memories of his misdeeds haunted him. It was as if hell had followed him with his ressurection, his sins brought to the front of his mind at all times. He hated that he felt shame for the countless civilizations and people he had wiped out. He always repeated to himself,_ I shouldn't feel bad for those I killed. I'm a Saiyan! It's in my nature to slaughter and conquer!_

After tasting his own death, he somehow no longer cared to kill others. He didn't even care about becoming immortal, though he saw no point to immortality now that Frieza was gone, and the Saiyan prince was now one of the top warriors in the universe. But there was still one goal he had yet to reach, and one person he had to surpass.

"Damn it. I should have become a Super Saiyan by now," he griped, "Maybe it hasn't happened because of this damnable _softness_ that's been pervading me."

"And you still have a long way to go," said Bulma.

He glared in her direction, though still refusing to meet her eyes. "What the hell makes you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You should have learned by now, Vegeta. Softness isn't a weakness. I think it may even be the greatest asset a fighter can possess. To understand your allies and enemies and show them sympathy equally..."

"Feh." He brushed her statement off, "Me, a Saiyan, showing sympathy to my enemies? Unheard of."

"Well, you never know, maybe the key to becoming a Super Saiyan is a pure heart," Bulma suggested.

"So then, what about someone as impure as me? Are you saying I can't do it?" His eyes finally met with hers, he was scowling at her like an angry, lost child, demanding an answer. "I could never have a _pure_ heart. I have gladly killed innocent people, even as they fled from me, unable to defend themselves. You call that sympathy? No; I am evil, and I accept that I belong in hell. I'd be welcomed there with open arms."

Bulma sighed, "You're not evil. You just had a lot of bad things happen to you that you didn't deserve."

She placed a consoling hand on his wrist, and for the first time he didn't cringe away from her touch. "It's not your fault that you were cruel in the past, I believe cruelty was just your way of coping with the horrors you experienced, a coping mechanism to survive the stress of everything you've been through. What you have struggled with and suffered through was unfair, and you deserve to live a better life. You deserve to be happy for a change. And I think you of all people deserve to reach your goals, more than anyone else."

He could see the sincerity in her glittering eyes. Here she was, attempting to comfort him, a murderer with a past drenched in blood, the very same man who had previously had her boyfriend killed. And yet she was showing him such kindness and compassion, trying to uplift his confidence in any way she could.

"I know you can do it, Vegeta. I know you'll become a Super Saiyan," she showed him her sweetest smile. She didn't know what other sympathies she could offer him, other than giving him her faith in his ability.

Despite being dazed and woozy from the medication, he felt a melting warmth inside him. It was like she was thawing the ice that had been building up in him over the years, with just her words and that effortless smile. Her comforting words struck a distant chord in him, one he thought had been gone with his childhood.

He looked away from her, glaring back at the rain through the window. Somehow he couldn't face her, like he was afraid he would only prove her wrong and let her down. Just as he'd let his own people down.

A few seconds of silence passed, and Bulma stood up from the edge of the bed. She would have liked to say more to him, but she felt she had imposed herself enough. He was beginning to look uncomfortable.

She said, "That meal I was working on is done, so if you get hungry, feel free to come downstairs any time to get some food. I'm off to bed." She crossed the room and closed the door behind her as she exited to the hall.

Vegeta ran a hand over his scalp and through his hair, clenching his teeth, his other hand straying to his face as he smeared his palm across his forehead. He was frustrated. He could not understand why he'd said so much to her, or why he was experiencing so many memories of his past.

He'd always been aware that the universe was a cold place, and not just literally. The people out there were cold and unfeeling. One had to be manipulative and cunning in order to survive.

But this planet Earth was different. It was a comfortable, carefree environment, untouched by any tyrannous rulers. These people had freedom, something rarely come by in the galaxies, not like the life of servitude he had lived. The humans lived in an age of peace, the people cared for and helped one another, and they seemed to see the last two Saiyans as part of their own race. Blissfully unaware of the cruel universe outside their world, not worried at all about the bigger picture, the naive humans were unconcerned about the dangers lurking just outside their planet in space. But maybe it was better if they did not know.

And now that Frieza was gone, Vegeta didn't need to worry about being enslaved ever again. He was wasting time worrying about the past. If he continued reliving it, he would be keeping Frieza's memory and legacy alive. So the ultimate way he could spit on Frieza's grave would be to start forgetting.

And, perhaps now that he was free, he decided it might not be _so_ bad to lighten up, to take it easy and indulge in his life for the first time.

With the death of Frieza and the fall of the Planet Trade Organization, it was the dawn of a new era for the universe. Perhaps now those who felt compassion were to rise to the top, as proven by Goku's success. Maybe the key to becoming a Super Saiyan lay in someone with a pure heart, as Bulma had suggested?

At this notion, Vegeta was forced to reconsider his outlook on ethic and morals. Was it wrong to be kind? Had he been living in denial? Was he not allowing himself the pleasure of enjoying his life, his newfound freedom, denying himself from feeling compassion, joy, and hope, because he was so used to the years of cruelty he'd endured for so long that he'd distanced himself from feeling emotion?

But wasn't it safer to feel nothing, to preemptively save himself from irrelevant grief? He could always depend on being cold-hearted, to feel no remorse, as a self-imposed way to protect himself. He hated to feel anything other than what he was familiar with; he was comfortable with his feelings of wrath, rage, hate, and contempt for others. But these new emotions that had been rising in him as of late were strange, and he was not used to them. He didn't know what to make of them.

And in part it was because of Bulma that he was starting to feel differently about life. She was weak, she could not fight efficiently at all, but her presence alone was intimidating. How could he take life for granted now that he'd gotten to know a little more about her? He saw that she was not physically strong, but her spirit was, she _knew_ she could not protect herself, and yet she still had the strength and courage to go on living, and she had something to live for.

And what did that make of him, when he'd been so hopeless at times that he wondered why he bothered to continue fighting, to live?

Bulma's inner strength was admirable, commendable, attractive. Those qualities in her more than made up for her physical weaknesses.

_That_ made her stronger than him.

And he could not help but admire her exemplary strength.

Bulma mulled over her thoughts as she headed down the hall and went into her room. Now after his admission to her, she could see that Vegeta was very, truly alone. Despite seemingly cold, calculating, and harsh on the outside, she saw that he was a broken man who needed to be healed, who only wanted to prove himself, a prince who missed his deceased race. And that maybe all he really needed was to be shown some compassion and empathy that he had never received.

He was so alone, and he was hurting. He needed to be comforted; he shouldn't have to deal with his pain all on his own, as he had for so many years.

And for all the bad things that had happened to him, Bulma decided he needed some happiness in his life. And she was determined to see him happy.

* * *

**A/N **(part 2, this is a little lengthy, sorry)**-** I don't think it would be too far-fetched to think that Frieza, Zarbon, and cohorts would have made Vegeta do dirty work, like clearing away corpses on planets. Vegeta has said that Zarbon worked him like a slave for years; I think that maybe aside from cleaning toilets and stuff like that, Vegeta would have been forced to do some tremendously emotionally scarring work (c'mon, cleaning bathrooms is not _that_ emotionally scarring, even for a Saiyan Prince). Thus, I came up with the idea of the corpse cleaning duty. I think it makes a bit of sense, considering how the Planet Trade Organization slaughters millions of people almost on a day-to-day basis. So who's supposed to deal with any leftover bodies?

And I found it was a goldmine of an opportunity for me to come up with the reason behind Vegeta's fear of worms/squirmy things. :D

And a little note about where the names of the planets from the flashback came from:

Laizar=lazer. Reference to a certain internet meme originating from an edited screen cap of 2nd form Cell...

Ovair=over. Another reference to a DBZ meme. Do I even need to say this one? :'D I'm shameless for exploiting memes. (And the people of the planet would be called Ovairians. Like ovarian cyst. L-O-L.)


	8. Chapter 8

Bulma was standing on the balcony outside her bedroom, leaning against the railing as she watched the sun setting behind the hills. The sky was pink and orange at the horizon, and a warm wind brought the crisp scent of the autumn season to her nostrils. She closed her eyes and smiled. It was rare that she got to enjoy such a peaceful moment of tranquility.

"Take me back! Please!"

Bulma winced as a whining voice shattered the solitude she had been enjoying. She glared down to the lawn. There, gazing up at her from below with a tortured look on his face, was Yamcha. He held up a huge bouquet of roses pleadingly, crying out in a hoarse tone, "I can't live without you!"

Bulma grinned maliciously, then as she leaned over the edge of the balcony railing she yelled down to him, "No way, chump! After what you did to me, you expect me to just welcome you back in open arms? Why don't you go take that scarred face of yours and shove it up your ass!"

She flipped him off and left the balcony to go back into her room, slamming the sliding glass door shut behind her. She was satisfied to hear the muffled cries of agony from Yamcha as he wept outside, "I should never have cheated on such a gorgeous girl! I'm a loser!"

As her eyes adjusted to the lighting of her room, she was taken by surprise to see that Vegeta was leaning in her doorway. He was wearing his pink Bad Man shirt and he had a cruel yet devilishly handsome smirk playing on his lips. Bulma stopped in her tracks, drawing in a quick gasp and holding the air in her lungs.

Vegeta took that as his cue to approach her. As he took a few quick strides to cross the room, he snatched something from Bulma's dresser.

"Vegeta? What are you-" she held her breath in more when she saw that he was holding a strawberry in his hand. He had plucked it from a bowl Bulma had set down on the dresser.

Vegeta slowly brought the strawberry to his lips, then gently he took a bite of the fruit. The red juice trickled down to his chin, and he licked the sweet liquid from his lips.

"Hn. You were right. Your strawberries taste the best."

Bulma bit her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth to hide her beaming smile at hearing his compliment to her. "Of course. I told you so."

Vegeta lowered his eyelids and leaned closer to Bulma, as the fingers from his left hand slid across her slender wrist. "I wouldn't expect any less from such a talented woman."

Bulma trembled at his words. He must not have known just how much he was inflating her ego.

With his free hand Vegeta cupped her face in his palm, his thumb stroking her soft cheek. "How would you like to become the Princess of Saiyans?" Then slowly his lips descended upon hers...

* * *

"Hngh... Yes... I want to be a princess..."

Bulma was drooling onto her pillow, a grin plastered on her sleeping face. Her leg was tangled around her blanket, her hands gripping her bedsheets.

"Mmmhh... your mouth tastes like _strawberries_..."

"Hm? Whose mouth tastes like strawberries, dear?"

Bulma was brought into awareness when she felt her shoulder being gently shaken. Groggily, she blinked her eyes open and lifted her head up, a ropey line of saliva trailing from her lips to her soaked pillow.

Bunny was leaning over the bed, her eternally gleeful face sending invisible rays of happiness down to her daughter. "Bulma! Time to get up!" she spoke in a singsong voice.

Bulma groaned and lifted herself from the bed. "What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing a tired eye with one hand, the other wiping the drool from her chin.

"It's almost eleven, sweetie," her mother answered.

"Eleven? I slept that long?" Bulma combed her fingers through her hair to tame her bed-head, now irritated at hearing how she'd overslept.

"I would let you sleep in longer, but I came to wake you up because Mister Vegeta requested that I fetch you to work on his gravity-whatsit machine. He seemed to be quite grumpy that you weren't up early!" Bunny said cheerily.

"Okay, okay. Tell that impatient Mr. Grouch-O to hold his horses. I'll be out there as soon as I get dressed." She got out of bed, and with a coy smile she added, "Tell him that unless he wants to burst into my room while I'm stripped naked, he'll just have to wait patiently for a few minutes."

Bunny frowned slightly for the briefest second, but resumed her characteristic cheery optimism and trotted out of the room.

Bulma went to her closet, picking out a pink v-cut shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, while she mulled over her dream.  
_  
Damn, that has to be the fifth time I had a dream involving Vegeta kissing me!_ She snickered as she imagined if Vegeta's lips would taste like strawberries, like they had in the dream.

And she remembered the incredibly interesting encounter from the night, how he'd gratuitously let her in on his thoughts. Now that she'd heard those little snippets of his past, she only wanted to find out more about him.  
_  
Guess I'm pretty greedy... but I can't help it. He's so stubbornly secretive. I'll have to talk to him some more. He's so lonely. And cute... Yeah, I guess mom was right about that 'individualistic wide forehead' of his! _She laughed.

But her light-hearted musings were cut short as she remembered that Yamcha had shown up in the dream as well. It had been a while since she'd last dreamt of him, and the dreams had not been so pleasant as their relationship had started to go downhill. The memories of the good times they'd had made her feel resentment and hurt, and she hated the feeling. She was not one to feel regret, but she felt it now. She wished she could just forget about the romantic history they'd shared entirely.

She wouldn't mind if they stayed on friendly terms, but of course she felt it would have to be after they'd spend a good deal of time apart to cool-off from the breakup. She didn't want to risk having any lingering romantic feelings or attachments for him to be rekindled.

She didn't want to admit it, but she wasn't over him yet.

She finished her morning primping routine by applying dark-blue mascara to her eyelashes, then she sauntered out of her room and headed down the stairs and then into the kitchen. It was empty of any occupants, which was not odd for this time of day, but she was surprised that even the smell of her mother's cooking was not in the room. And there was no sign of any breakfast out on the table waiting for her. That was odd.

"Nobody left me any breakfast, did they?" she pouted. Mildly disappointed, she went over to the pantry and grabbed a packet containing two frosted strawberry poptarts. She ripped the packet open with her teeth, then she shoved the poptarts into the toaster, at the same time turning the expresso machine on.

She hummed as she reached into the cupboard for a mug, and quickly the smell of fresh coffee filled the room. It took only a minute for the coffee to be finished. Bulma had to hand it to her father for the ingenious Capsule Corp expresso machine he'd patented. He'd made many useful inventions - Hoi-Poi Capsules, the artificial gravity simulator... But the instant expresso machine had to be the most important. Every member of the Briefs family ran on coffee.

Bulma poured the liquid into the mug and added milk and a spoonful of sugar, and she brought her cup of coffee with her over to the table as she sat down. While she sipped her freshly brewed caffeinated hot beverage, she picked up the morning newspaper from the table top and began skimming through it.

"Huh. Our company's stock went up by 25 percent," she noted aloud as she glanced over the stock market section of the paper. The rest of the paper was uninteresting to her. Politics. A new romance flick airing on the tv. An ice cream truck had crashed into a ravine, flipping over a few dozen times before it had burst into flames. No survivors. Grim news as always. And she scanned a breif paragraph about two missing persons - twins, apparently, the only description designating that they were delinquents, a male and a female who'd disappeared some time ago. Silently Bulma gave them her regards, hoping they would be found safe.

Then something on the table caught her eye. Some gossip magazine. She snatched it up and peered at the front cover for only a second before her jaw dropped. "Unbelievable!"

In the lower right hand corner, in a small box, was a picture from her from five years ago. The text plastered above the box read: _Ms. Bulma Briefs, heiress to Capsule Corp, now single!_

"How the hell did they find out about my breakup already?" She griped, "I'll bet mom had something to do with this!" Her mother had the annoying tendency to call up all her friends to talk of Bulma's every life events. Bulma figured that when word spread through the grapevine, one of Bunny's friends would seek to gain a little extra cash by relaying the news of the breakup to a local magazine.

"Jeez. Mom and her untrustworthy friends," Bulma grumbled, deciding she would need to deal with that later by having a little talk with her mother.

Once she lowered the magazine from her face, she almost fell out of her chair to see that Vegeta was standing over her. His arms were folded and he did not appear to be in a good mood.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" Bulma scolded, slamming her coffee mug down against the table and holding her free hand against her chest, trying to get her pulse to settle. "You want me to have a heart attack?"

"Save your heart attack for later. Right now you need to get working on the Gravity Room."

Bulma groaned, "The GR isn't going anywhere. You can wait."

Vegeta scowled, "I've been waiting long enough. I need to train immediately."

"You're kidding me, right? Don't you remember what happened yesterday? It's not safe to put your body through strenuous activity right after a concussion! You should get at least two weeks of rest."

The exceptionally foreboding look that settled over Vegeta's face made Bulma reconsider.

"Okay. How about one week?"

"No."

"Three days?"

"_Now_."

"I am not going to haggle the issue. You need to recuperate!"

"If I can walk, I'm well enough to train. Clearly, I am able to move around freely, thus your tiny brain should process that as a confirmation that I can and _will_ train. Now get out there."

"What kind of reasoning is that?_!_" Though she had to admit, Vegeta wasn't human, and it appeared he'd already recovered over the night. He looked perfectly healthy.

Vegeta did not retaliate at that. His head snapped up, and an irritated look crossed his face. His nostrils flared, picking up on a rank stench. "You should keep an eye on the food you cook, inattentive woman."

Bulma turned around in her chair. Smoke was rising from the toaster. She had completely forgotten about her poptarts, which were now evidently burning.

She leapt from her seat like a gazelle and ran over to the toaster, and with force she manually ejected the poptarts. One of the pastries was fine, but the other had been crushed from when she had shoved it into the toaster, and it was burnt nearly to a crisp, giving off a foul and very unpleasant odor.

"Guess I was careless. At least one survived," she said, plopping the decent poptart onto a plate while she dumped the burnt one into the garbage. She headed back to the table and sat back in her seat, blowing onto the breakfast pastry to cool it off.

Vegeta was still standing by her with his arms folded, watching her nibble on the poptart. He was becoming increasingly irritated.

Noticing that he hadn't left, Bulma looked up at him and held up the poptart, asking innocently, "What, do you want some? I wouldn't mind sharing with you. Go ahead and take a bite." She teasingly added, "It'll be like an indirect kiss." The dream she had that night crossed her mind again, and her smile broadened at the thought. She was curious to find out if Vegeta's mouth would taste like strawberries. And if not, she could always change that by feeding him some strawberry flavored poptarts.

Vegeta growled, "Would it kill you to hurry up?"

"Hey! A beautiful genius needs to eat her breakfast too!" She retorted, "If you guys had left some of the food mom made, I wouldn't have to prepare my own!"

Vegeta smirked. "Well, I _did _thoroughly enjoy the extra serving I got this morning."

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "_You_ ate my breakfast, didn't you!"

"If you had woken up on time, I wouldn't have eaten your portion of the food. Consider it punishment for your untimeliness."

"Jerk!"

"And I was satisfied with _every_ bite. And I was even more satisfied as I imagined how much you would have enjoyed the meal. Too bad for you."

"_You_ are a big gloating _jerk_!"

"And _you_ need to learn how to set your alarm," Then he added with a mean smirk, "_Slave_."

Bulma pouted disdainfully, "Why don't you address me by my name! You said it yesterday!"

Vegeta frowned, all traces of humor gone. "I did no such thing."

Bulma raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Don't tell me you can't remember what happened last night?"

In his mind he quickly went over every little event that had occured the previous evening, but for some odd reason the events of the late night were amiss, gone, like a big hole was left in his memory bank. He realized now that he didn't remember a thing of what had occurred.

Then a horrific thought crossed his mind. What if he'd brought her into his bed? He knew that under the right circumstances, with his stirring hormones paired with a dazed mindset from the medication he'd taken, he would not be inhibited from blindly following his instincts by lunging on her.

She always spoke much too intimately with him and she seemed to always think of lewd things, so he couldn't tell from the behavior she was giving off if she showed the signs of one who had just gotten laid. He had no choice but to ask vocally.

He swallowed, and in a gruff voice said cautiously, "Why don't you remind me." No hint of a question, as usual, it was a demand.

Bulma felt slightly disappointed, but she expected as much. "Jeez. You were so out of it last night," she massaged her temples with both index fingers. "Come on. Just _try_ to remember."

He could tell she wouldn't let up, so expediently he thought hard for even a small recollection of any of the events of the previous evening. Concentrating acutely, he remembered he'd hit his head and must have blacked out. Dr. Briefs gave him some sort of medication for the pain, then he'd stumbled out of the infirmary and went into his own private quarters, and he started to have memories of his past and the remorse he'd experienced throughout his life, and he had strange delusional thoughts, like how he'd regretted killing... then she-

Now he remembered. Everything he had said to her without holding back, spoken freely and without restraint, admitting his dark thoughts to the woman.

Vegeta pressed a palm against his brow, reprimanding himself for his inexcusable mistake. _Damn it! How could I have said those things to her?  
_  
He felt a wave of embarrassment overcome him. It seemed that unconsciously he'd let her in more than anyone else before, this woman he'd known for little more than a year. He had fallen into a moment of weakness and involuntarily slipped, and told her some of his bottled-up thoughts and feelings.

And on top of it, he had spoken her name, the first time he'd ever spoken _any _woman's name - addressed her and called her to him, to come to his side so that he could speak his mind to her.

Speaking a woman's name was extra personalizing; a sign of acceptance, sometimes even intimacy in Saiyan culture, to verbally show that he viewed her as equal to him. Female Saiyans were not always treated highly, but a female who was seen as valuable and a worthy warrior and proved her strength was called by name.

Saying Bulma's name meant he was accepting that her life had meaning.

Vegeta hadn't been planning on saying her name out loud, ever, if he could prevent it, but the fact that he had done so while dazed from his melancholy thoughts and possibly the medication proved that he had at least been considering it. He'd already concluded that she was worthy of living as his servant, but calling her by her name meant that he respected her and saw her as more than that. Not a servant, but an equal.

Calling her name had been instinctive. He'd been feeling low, he'd felt so alone with his delusional thoughts and needed some reassurance. He sought any form of comfort, and somehow he had instinctively chosen to receive it from her.

And she gave it to him. She mostly just listened as he'd vented, but that was all he needed. Her presence was somehow enough to calm him. After he'd talked to her, he oddly felt better, though she did little more than sit and listen to his rant. She'd been there for him when he needed it, and she hadn't tried to take advantage of his moment of weakness, nor did she judge him for it. No, she'd provided comfort instead.

Somehow she'd gotten him to open up to her, to spill the details of his deepest regrets and speak of the life of suffering he'd lived. She had lured him to her, and she had won. Though somehow this was a battle that he didn't entirely mind losing. Rather than feeling angry, he almost felt relief, like a heavy burden had been lifted off his chest. And he was surprised, no, shocked, that after telling her just a little of his horrifying past, she had not run away in fear. She was still here, and she was not afraid of him in the least.

There was no backing away now. It was much too late for that, anyway.

Or was it?

He instantly considered a quick, easy solution - he could kill her to prevent her from ever reciting to her friends what he had told her.

But he quickly shoved the thought from his mind. Why would she tell anyone? She had nothing to gain from that, no incentive. And besides, Goku, Krillin, Gohan, and Piccolo had overheard the Prince of Saiyan's last words on Namek, and had they ever brought it up or mocked him about it? No. They must have been too afraid to. Or perhaps they didn't even care.

Maybe his words hadn't affected them at all, that fact made obvious by Goku's failure to carry out the Saiyan Prince's revenge against Frieza. It seemed not even a fellow Saiyan cared to avenge his dead race.

However, this woman was the only living being who seemed to genuinely care about him. Odd. Nobody had ever truly cared about him before, not even his own father. Should he just push this woman away when she was the only one who seemed to accept him? What if he'd never have the chance again to feel accepted, _needed_. Why ruin that?

Well, what did he have to lose, by just conversing with her? Simply _talking_ to her wouldn't be too much, would it? As long as he kept his distance when necessary and didn't let her get all touchy-feely, if he could keep her just at arms length, he could deal with it. This wouldn't mean he liked her, but it was a good incentive to freely annoy the hell out of her at his leisure.

And in his free time, boredom did strike him frequently. As well as loneliness. This girl was almost like a Saiyan, he had to admit, and it was a little comforting to be in the presence of someone who could almost pass for a Saiyan with her harsh, bold manner of speaking and inner strength. And, though he was beginning to admire her, he didn't need to say it out loud. It's not like she would ever find out if he kept it to himself.

And talking to this pretty girl (well, mostly _arguing _with her) was becoming more and more of a past time hobby to him. If anything, he could view his associating with her to be a battle, and he was now very, _very_ curious to see what the outcome would be.

It would be a waste if he just destroyed her now. He did benefit from keeping her around for the upgrades she provided him. And the amusement.

He reached a resolve. He could keep her around. Sure, he'd said her name, but it wasn't like she knew how much meaning was behind that simple slip of the tongue of his. But he would never make it obvious to her by saying the meaning it held out in the open, and it wasn't likely that she would understand or figure out that him saying her name meant something much more; that he accepted her strengths and viewed her as worthy.

Through his nostrils he slowly released a long, defeated sigh that he had been holding in. He noisily dragged a chair out from under the table and pulled it along the floor until it was facing Bulma, and he sat, propping his elbows against the table, glowering at her.

His voice was leveled and calm, not betraying the inner tempest of emotions within him.

"That incompetent father of yours needs to be punished for forcing me to take that unnecesary medicine. The old fool is unfit to be a doctor." He wouldn't directly address the issue of what had happened the night before, so he used the idea of punishing Dr. Briefs as a scapegoat.

Bulma rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. _I knew it. So he DOES remember what happened last night_.

She understood that he must have felt embarrassment for his actions of the previous night, so she felt it would be best to preserve his pride by not dragging the subject out longer, so she opted to accept going into the subject of punishing her father. "He was only looking out for your best interests, Vegeta," she said.

"If you don't punish him, _I_ will," with a sneer he said slowly and mockingly, "_Bull_-muh."

She felt a tingling excitement at hearing him say her name a second time. It seemed to her that he'd come to be fine with saying her name now. And, though she didn't know it meant he accepted her, she did understand that it clearly showed that he was a little comfortable with her now. But Bulma thought it would be wise to not point it out if she'd hope to hear him say her name again. He had his pride, after all.

She came up with an easy proposition. "Okay. Well then, how about we hide my dad's Viagra? That ought to teach him a lesson."

"And what good would that do?" Vegeta frowned. He did not really want to know.

"Oh, trust me, he _will_ miss it. I assure you he will see the error of his ways," Bulma snickered, "Without his precious Viagra, he won't be 'getting any', let alone be able to jack-off for a while."

_Nasty woman!_ A grimace tugged on the corners of Vegeta's mouth. _And this is the same woman who was not afraid of Frieza. Or ME! I swear this girl absolutely baffles me to no end! I don't understand how it is possible for one female to be so brave, yet so vulgar!  
_  
He'd lost interest in punishing Dr. Briefs entirely now, thanks to Bulma's inappropriate comment. "Alright. Fine. Go retrieve his... 'precious Viagra', and as soon as you succeed in hiding it, you are to work on those upgrades. Got it?"

Bulma drained the last of her coffee from her mug and set it down on the table, rising from her seat. "Alright, your majesty," she said sarcastically.

Vegeta smirked, "Good, I see you're finally learning to address me as royalty."

After finishing the last bite of her poptart, Bulma carried her dishes over to the sink and rinsed them off. "Hm. Don't get too used to it, little monkey man. You're just lucky you caught me in a good mood."

"Don't forget those upgrades, servant." Vegeta got up from his chair and left the room, adding, "Five minutes. If you're late, your pathetic father will suffer the consequences. I could use a live human being for target practice."

Bulma smiled as she placed her dishes on the rack in the dishwasher, knowing Vegeta's threat was idle. Well, maybe.  
_  
I'm going to have to thank dad for giving that medicine to Vegeta. Looks like I've made a new friend because of it... But first, I must hide dad's Viagra. This should be fun._ She wrung her hands together on a towel, plotting her next move like an evil genius.

* * *

Bulma tossed a bottle of Tums to the bathroom floor and shoved aside a stack of toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.

"Nyquil, no... hydrogen peroxide, nope... Lotrimin, ew." She carelessly tossed a few stray pills into the sink, and they disappeared down the drain. "Ugh, where does he keep that damn Viagra?"

She had been searching through the medicine cabinet in her parents' bathroom for several minutes now, currently knocking aside a bottle of cough syrup and some shaving utensils in her search for the Viagra. She snorted, displeased with her fruitless quest. "Where the hell could it be?"

She left the bathroom and looked around the large vicinity of her parents' bedroom, scanning the area for any clues. "Hmm... It would have to be kept in a convenient place where it could be accessed easily during the throes of passion," she was disgusted by the thought, but for her it was naturally the easiest conclusion she could come to, being a genius and all. "But where?"

Her eyes landed on the nightstand drawer next to the bed. She tip-toed over to it and pulled the top drawer open. She grimaced when she saw some explicit issues of Playboy and Penthouse magazines littering the inside of the drawer, but then she exclaimed in delight, "Ahah!" Her eyes met the vibrant orange bottle, and she snatched it up, grinning, "Well whaddya know, I found it!" She stuffed the bottle into the back pocket of her jeans, praising herself, "Bulma, you are a mastermind!"

"Well of course you are, you are my daughter, after all."

Bulma shrieked and spun around. Her father was walking into the room, sipping from his fourth cup of black coffee that morning, his cat Scratch perched on his shoulder.

"Dad, uh..."

"Hm? Is there something you need?"

To Bulma's relief, it appeared her father had not noticed that she'd taken his bottle of Viagra and had stowed it away in her pocket. As her father walked over to the closet and reached for his lab coat draped on a hanger, with her leg Bulma inconspicuously pushed the drawer of the nightstand, closing it. "Oh, I was just looking for mom's sewing kit... erm, because I need to sew up a hole in Vegeta's pink shirt," she lied.

"Mhm. I see," Dr. Briefs nodded understandably. He seemed satisfied with the answer, but before Bulma could hightail it out of the room, he went on, "You know, I am astounded by the progress of Vegeta's recovery. Any normal man in his condition would be bed-ridden, if not in a coma! But he was up and about this morning, looking good as new. Remarkable, I must say."

"That's because he refuses to rest. And don't forget, he's an alien, dad. His kind was born to fight, so I can only assume their bodies have adapted to the constant battering they received, and their species has evolved to a point where it's normal for them to heal quickly for the sake of survival." With that load of information she left her father to process, she prepared to leave the room, but she stopped as a question popped into her mind, and she quickly asked, "Say dad, what medication did you have Vegeta on?"

"Oh, just a few non-opioid NSAIDs. I would have given him morphine, but he suffered head trauma. It would be ill-advised for him to take anything strong so soon after a head injury."

"Really? That's it?" she blinked in surprise.

As she turned and left the room, she rubbed her chin with her fingers, thinking, _I was sure dad would've had Vegeta take a bunch of opiates or something, some character-altering substances. That would explain Vegeta's weird behavior from last night. But just an anti-inflammatory drug? That's nothing!  
_  
She headed downstairs, continuing her pondering. _That probably couldn't serve as a catalyst to get him to open up to me... I wonder though, if that's the case, then what if Vegeta's admission to me last night wasn't because of the medication? Could it be that he is beginning to trust me enough to talk to me?_

As she headed across the lawn she shook her head, chuckling. _Nah... No way, couldn't be._

* * *

"You're _late_."

Vegeta had his arms crossed, standing in front of his training capsule as Bulma approached.

She shot him a dirty look. "Huh! Well SORRY I couldn't meet your quota of three _seconds_!" She sauntered past him and went into the GR, swinging her box of tools in her arm. "Oh, and my mission has been accomplished, jerk. Rest assured that my dad will never find his Viagra. It's hiding under a pile of panties in my closet. But if you don't believe me, you're free to go check if you want."

_Disgusting_. Vegeta snarled.

Bulma flipped the light switch on and headed for the Gravitron in the center of the room to get started on her work. She opened the control panel and pulled a wrench out of her toolbox.

Vegeta marched inside the GR after her, watching Bulma fumbling around in a jungle of gears and wires, already tinkering with the complicated machinery. Her work was quick and impressive; Vegeta internally acknowledged that this was something he could never do.

Bulma pulled away from her work for a few seconds to glance up at Vegeta, "Okay, so, you want the Gravitron to go up past 500Gs, correct? By how much?"

"One thousand would be adequate."

"One thousand? Forget it, pal. I may be a genius, but I can't get it to go that high without ordering some new equipment first, and the Gravitron's compartment isn't nearly big enough."

He smirked. "Hmph. And I thought you said you could tackle any technical problem. Or was that merely a bluff?"

He was calling her out, taking a stab at her pride. And he predicted that, if she was indeed so similar and like-minded with him as he suspected, she would take his criticizing words as a challenge to her technical prowess, and she would want to prove him wrong, prove that she could do it.

His prediction was right.

Bulma sighed, "550Gs. That much I can do today."

"700."

"_No,_ 550. That's my final offer, take it or leave it!" She rubbed a temple with the back of her hand that still held the wrench, pissed at herself for giving in a little, even if it was only by an additional 50Gs. "You're spoiled rotten, you know that? Do you have any idea how much money this is going to cost?"

"Need I remind you that your family is the richest and most influential on this planet? Funding isn't an issue for you."

"Yeah, well... The money I'm using on this little project of yours could be spent on more important things."

That annoyed him. "What could be more important than _me_?"

"Well, for one thing, I would like to buy some nice diamonds and pearls to flaunt around in front of the neighbors."

Vegeta was not amused. "Rather than frivolously spending your funds on materialistic items that you would inevitably grow bored with, you should spend it on something worthwhile. _My_ upgrades."

"Relax. I was just joking, Vegeta. Don't worry, you'll get your upgrades," she smiled up at him innocently, "Have I ever failed you before?"

He snorted through his nose and shifted his eyes away.

A minute went by as Bulma studied and worked on the components of the Gravitron, then Vegeta said, "So, Earth-woman, what did you want to use your wish on." It came off as more of a demand than a question.

Bulma looked up from her work, confused. Was Vegeta making small-talk with her? Usually when she fixed up the GR he silently lurked nearby, angrily pacing around the room, closely on guard and watching her every move as if to make sure she wouldn't plant any bombs in the Gravatron. But today he seemed to be quite talkative, and oddly at ease now.

"My wish?" she asked finally.

"I heard you once gathered this planet's Dragon Balls with that fool Kakarott."

"Oh, yeah... But that was a long time ago, and it's a very long story. Maybe I'll invite Goku over here for a slumber party sometime and he can help me recite the story to you."

Vegeta scowled, "I don't want to hear it from Kakarott. Just tell me what _you_ were going to wish for."

A blush spread over Bulma's cheeks as she recalled the days of her youth. "Um... Well, I couldn't decide... At first I was going for a lifetime supply of strawberries-"

Vegeta interrupted her, "You would have wasted your wish on _that_?"

"Hey, I was sixteen years old, I was fickle!" She huffed, "Although, even at that age I was the epitome of brilliance. I invented the Dragon Radar, after all."

_Not humble, is she?_ Vegeta sneered, though always finding himself a little surprised at just how big an ego Bulma had, almost as big as his own. She hadn't been born into royalty like him, but she had grown up under somewhat similar conditioning, constantly receiving praise for being from one of the most important families on Earth. In that way she was almost like royalty. Like a princess.

Sixteen years old, and at that young age Bulma already had the mechanical genius to create such an intricate device. She had every right to gloat about that achievement. But confusion clouded Vegeta's face briefly. She had been sixteen years old... So how many years ago was that? He realized he didn't know exactly how old Bulma was. She looked quite youthful, but she was obviously experienced beyond her years with countless other talents, so it was hard to place a guess to her age. He decided not to bring it up.

"Alright, the worthless strawberry wish aside, what else did you want?"

Bulma twiddled her thumbs together in embarrassment. She knew he'd ask that. This was one question she didn't really like answering to anyone. "Erm... Well, I wanted to use my wish for, um..." she mumbled something inaudible that even Vegeta's ears could not pick up.

"Stop muttering and speak up."

"A... perfect boyfriend." She bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was not usually the type to get embarrassed, but a lot of things about her youth made her feel bashful.

Vegeta was appalled. "You can't be serious."

Bulma looked away, a little ashamed. "Dead serious."

"What an absolute waste. Here I was thinking you'd have the brains to use your wish for something useful, such as infinite knowledge, or to gain some strength since you're so pathetically weak. But a stupid man? Why would you want to wish for such a pest, a disposable human?"

Bulma retorted to cover for her obvious embarrassment, "Oh yeah? And what did _you_ want to wish for, since you came all the way to this 'mudball' planet to steal our Dragon Balls, hmm? Eternal life, right? Sounds pretty lame to me! Lemme guess, even now you still strive to become immortal, right?"

"Not particularly, no." His answer was honest.

"And why not?"

Vegeta smirked cruelly, "After being wished back to life by your dumb friends, I realized that was close enough to immortality as it gets. And it has its advantages. Being brought back from death made me _stronger_. I suppose now I can always count on you dim-witted Earthlings to wish me back to life any number of times using the stupid Namekian Dragon Balls, since I know you all _need_ my company. And every time I am brought back from death, I will gain more strength."

Bulma pursed her lip, but she stayed silent. She didn't want to point out that it would take a long time for them to track down the new Planet Namek and just hog the Dragon Balls there, lest Vegeta would consider using the Earth's Dragon Balls as a substitute to wish for immortality once he realized how troublesome it would be for the 'dim-witted Earthlings' to constantly travel to Namek. And the limitations of the Dragon Balls on Earth, not being able to revive anyone more than once, might possibly make him consider wishing for immortal life, after all. With the Earth's Dragon Balls, he would not be able to be revived a second time.

Of course Vegeta knew that already, and he honestly didn't care for immortality anymore. But he did like conveniently keeping Bulma on edge around him, not knowing of his intentions. It proved entertaining.

He snorted, "So, you got the strawberry wish granted instead, did you?"

Bulma frowned. "You don't think I followed through with my wish to get a perfect boyfriend?"

"That scar-faced weakling is not perfect." He smirked, "Far from it, in fact. But I suppose in that way he is suitable for you."

Bulma almost wanted to laugh at his little joke about Yamcha, but she made a sour face at remembering the ordeal of what had happened with the wish. "No, I didn't get my wish granted. That stupid pig Oolong wished for the panties of a hot babe!" She folded her arms and muttered, "I bet Shenron gave him a pair of _my_ panties..."

A question had been burning on the tip of Vegeta's tongue, and he finally had to ask. "Why the hell would you wish for a worthless companion? You seem to constantly brag about how you can supposedly ensnare any male without any effort. I'm guessing you were bluffing."

"Well, sure, I _can_ get any guy I want... But do you know how hard it is to find a decent guy who isn't after me for my money, fame, and good-looks?" She sighed, "I wanted a guy who would appreciate me for who I am, not chase after me for my reputation and fortune. I'm sure you can understand what it's like. Didn't your people put you on a pedestal because you're a prince?"

"Not just for the reason that my royal blood and status was above theirs. I was stronger than all of them at a young age. They feared me, and with good reason. I could kill them all if I'd wanted to."

For a moment he thought about his underlings Raditz and Nappa, how they had held him so high out of fear, following his every order because he was stronger than them. But fear hadn't been the only reason they had obeyed him. They were lost sheep, with their king gone and the rest of the Saiyans slain, they depended on Vegeta to lead them.

And in the end, he had betrayed them, the last two Saiyans he reigned over. Refusing to ressurect his fallen compatriot Raditz with the Dragon Balls, all because Raditz was deemed as weak, then killing the crippled Nappa because he'd found no use for keeping a paralyzed Saiyan for a comrade.

Vegeta felt a sudden uneasiness stirring inside him at the memory of his own cruelty. But he forced the discomfort to settle.

"I cannot fathom why at such a young age you would feel like you need a stupid man to occupy your time. What a waste."

Bulma scowled. "Can you blame me? I was a regular teenage girl, I was bored and horny."

Vegeta grimaced, "Is vulgarity a trait all of you obscene Earthlings share? Does everyone in your race think so perversely? Or is it just you?"

"Oh believe me, I'm not as perverted as some, like the old turtle hermit. I'm merely comfortable with discussing sex freely. What about Saiyans? You and Goku seem to be clueless and aloof when it comes to sexuality."

"That dim-witted Kakarott may not understand it much, but to Saiyans, fighting is more necessary than breeding. That is why our race was so few in numbers. Saiyans enjoy slaughtering more than the brainless act of fornicating."

It felt strange to Vegeta to explain Saiyan customs to this human girl, especially the subject of mating, but somehow Bulma seemed very interested to listen to what he had to say about his race, watching him with intent and curiosity while he spoke.

At once he felt pride for his Saiyan race. Finally, someone was willing to learn about it. And though he was only telling her little snippets of the Saiyans, he wouldn't mind passing the knowledge down to her, since she seemed to appreciate it. And she seemed to be the _only_ one who appreciated it.

Bulma nodded, "That makes a lot of sense now. You guys just love fighting more than anything. I really don't have a clue how Goku ended up married and learned to have intercourse with Chi Chi."

Vegeta frowned and could not stop from cringing. "Spare me from having to think of it."

"Knowing how aggressive and dominant Chi Chi is, I'll bet she instigated the sex and came onto Goku first, or forced him to watch naughty videos to learn some tr-"

"Enough, you lewd woman! Are you that eager to make me vomit?"

Bulma laughed at the look of disgust on Vegeta's face. She was about to suggest that he should go watch some porn when Bunny's face was projected on the communication screen above her head. "Oh Bulma! I hope I'm not interrupting your precious time with Vegeta, but you have a phone call!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, muttering, "Precious time, indeed. Hmph. You're lucky you get five seconds in my presence. I can only tolerate so much of your blathering without going deaf."

"Hey, why don't you be quiet for _five seconds_, Vegeta?" Bulma turned her head away from him to talk to her mother, "I'll be right there. Jeez, who would want to talk to me on the phone now?" She stood, "Sorry, I'll be back."

"It looks like your suitors are pining after you already."

"Suitors?" She frowned, but she hurriedly left to answer her call, stomping across the lawn and into the house.

She picked up the phone in the kitchen. "Bulma speaking."

"Ah. Hi. This is Coates Glock. I don't know if you remember me..."

She recognized the voice as an assistant who had once worked at her company's corporate office, a man whom she'd noted had been a little too friendly and pushy with his advances to her. He'd ended up getting fired for inappropriate behavior and misconduct toward a female coworker.

Bulma sighed, "Yes, I remember you," _Regrettably enough_, she thought. "Is there something you need?"

"Oh, well, I was just wondering if you would like to hang out sometime, seeing as you're single and all..."

"Who told you I was single?" she was offended and could not hide the tone of annoyance in her voice. Her breakup was a private matter. Why was this guy she hardly knew bringing it up?

"Well, I read about your breakup in today's Calumny magazine, and I figured you could find yourself a better man."

It didn't take her long to put two and two together. This guy she was speaking with on the phone had obviously read about her breakup in the same stupid magazine she'd found on the table. Of course.

The tone of her voice was bordering on sinister now, "Look, you gullible buffoon, don't believe everything you read in those stupid gossip magazines! And the last time I checked, you were not to have contact with any Capsule Corporation employees or CEOs due to your negligence. Now, don't ever call me or anyone working in my company again, unless you'd like to see me in court with a restraining order and a lawsuit against you!"

With that, she promptly slammed the phone down on the receiver, grinding her teeth. "I don't believe this, I'm already being hounded by slimy men!"

She spun around to go back outside, but was alarmed to see Vegeta casually leaning against the wall, watching her with only mild interest. He cackled, "What did I tell you?"

Bulma groaned, "Damn it, Vegeta! You don't need to follow me around everywhere I go to make sure I won't run off! I told you I'd be right back!" She steadied her growing anger, knowing she was taking it out on the wrong person. "Now, how did you know that the person on the phone was a 'suitor'?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. Or perhaps it does, considering how stupid you Earthlings are." He gave his head a jerk, motioning to the table.

Bulma looked to see that his eyes were pointing to the gossip magazine.

She groaned, "Don't tell me you read this?"

"Only the poorly-composed article about your 'breakup'. It was your annoying mother who insisted that I take a look at it, somehow thinking I would find such a ridiculous thing to be an interesting read," then he smirked, "However, it_ did_ give me a good laugh."

"This is _not _funny!" She snatched the magazine off the tabletop, groaning. _Leave it to mom to leave her unclassy reading material out for Vegeta to see_! She flipped through page after page of celebrity scandals, until she landed on the page with the designated article about her.

"Hmph. Well they used a good photo of me, I'll give them credit for that," she snorted. But having a good photo of herself in a magazine was bound to only cause more suitors to join the chase for her.

The bold headline of the article read:

_Bulma Briefs on the market!_

Earlier this week, Bulma Briefs, 23, prodigious daughter of the president of Capsule Corporation, known most for her contributions to her company empire, split-up with her on-again, off-again boyfriend known only as Yamcha, star player of the major league baseball team the Taitans. The pair reportedly called it quits when Yamcha refused to marry her.

_Not much is known about the reclusive Bulma, other than she likes to take long walks in the park from time to time when she isn't cruising around in her yacht. One thing is certain, however: this 22 year old heiress could pass for a supermodel, with her stunning good-looks and voluptuous "assets"..._

_Currently Ms. Bulma is seeking to find a suitable man. Bachelors everywhere are lining-up for a chance to hit one out of the ballpark for this blue-haired vixen!_

Bulma looked disgusted as she slammed the magazine down into the nearest trashcan. "What a heaping load of BS! They got my age wrong, _twice_! They got _everything_ wrong! I don't even have a yacht!"

Although she was secretly a bit pleased that they'd gotten her age wrong by more than 7 years. That meant they thought she looked very young and beautiful for her age. And she was smug at that.

Still, she grumbled, ranting in her mind,_ I can't believe mom made Vegeta read that crap! What the hell was she thinking_?_!_

She turned her feisty glare on Vegeta, "I certainly hope you had the sense to not believe one word of that stupid article!"

"Do you take me for a fool? I don't trust the babblings your fellow heathen Earthlings spew forth." Though of course he did believe the part about Bulma's 'stunning good-looks and voluptuous assets'... He had a front row seat to witness her beauty. And he was quite content that he could be around such a highly desired woman when most other Earthling men could not.

Bulma fumed, "I can't fathom how they would have the audacity to write all that crap about me! I may be the hottest girl on the planet, but that doesn't mean I should be the subject of tabloids, like some celebrity! I'm a scientist! Whoever wrote that article is nuts and clearly needs to get their brain examined!"

Vegeta was amused by her anger, and naturally suggested, "Why don't you kill the fools who wrote it, then, for slandering your name and subjecting you to such degradation?" _Hell, I'll kill them for you if it will prove entertaining, _he added internally as an afterthought.

"Do you have to be so morbid? I don't care enough to want to kill them... after all, at the end of the day, they're the ones making a pitiful living writing for a lame, forgettable gossip magazine, while I contribute my inventions to the benefit of mankind and earn millions!" she laughed haughtily. "Still, it is a little annoying that now I'm going to have a bunch of lecherous men pursuing me. Right now that's the last thing I need."

"And you have my upgrades to attend to. But if any of those bothersome insect suitors of yours come within ten feet of me, expect to clean up the bloody aftermath. I will not hesitate to blast them."

"Vegeta, behave, they're harmless."

"Not if they succeed in courting you and your time spent wasting on the scum becomes a hindrance to my upgrades - speaking of which, you had better resume what you had been doing before you were interrupted. Now hurry up and get out there." He turned his back to her and started to head out.

"Hey, Vegeta..."

He stopped and turned his head to look back at her, "What _now_, wo-" To his horror he saw that she was staring at his ass, one of her eyebrows raised.

Vegeta turned his whole body around to face her, growling, "Enjoying the _view_?" This was one of the moments he regretted wearing skin-tight training clothing.

"Y'know, I've been wondering for a while now..." She hesitated, afraid that what she was about to say would offend him.

"_Well_?"

"Do you miss your tail?"

He hadn't been expecting that. He was sure she would say something along the lines of 'You've got a nice ass, Vegeta! Can I smack it?'

Rather, she was asking about one of his unique Saiyan traits. He would not mind answering that.

"My tail? Why do you care to ask?"

"Well, without it, you can't transform into that monkey monster, right?"

He snorted, "I never liked transforming into such an ugly beast, especially if I had to rely on that hideous transformation as a last resort in battle. But to answer your question - no. I don't dwell on it and hardly care for my tail."

Although he _would_ care if his race was still alive. If he'd gone back to his home planet without his tail, he would be made into a laughing stock. Losing such a valued part of the Saiyan anatomy was shameful. But he would silence any who mocked him, and he would assure them that having a tail was useless at this point - the great ape transformation obsolete now that he knew the Super Saiyan legend was true.

He went on, "It was more of a bothersome nuisance than anything else. Imagine if you had no choice but to morph into a hideous ape every time you looked at the moon. I disliked being subjected to the will of my environment."

Bulma frowned, "No, I wouldn't want to be forced to turn into a giant monkey." With a coy grin she added, "I like gazing on the full moon. It's such a romantic sight."

"Being crushed to death by a transformed Saiyan is far from the idealistic romance you humans harbor."

"Hmph. But you know... I think it would be kind of cute if you had a tail."

Vegeta grimaced, "Just get back to work." He spun around and headed for the door, Bulma following behind.

* * *

**A/N**- Hm, anyone catch the missing persons thing I slipped in the newspaper at the beginning of the chapter? ;) A little cameo of Androids 17 and 18, whom Dr. Gero kidnapped. I wonder if Gero had anything to do with that ice cream truck as well... What a weirdo. Only a sick, twisted individual would destroy an ice cream truck!

And just a note on the names I came up with:  
Calumny (for the gossip magazine); means slander/defamation. A very suitable name for a gossip magazine, indeed.  
The suitor dude, Coates Glock: Coates=Coats. You know, like a coat. The clothing. And Glock I got from Glockenspiel, which is an instrument.


	9. Chapter 9

An hour later, Bulma wiped sweat off her brow and tossed a screwdriver back into her toolbox. She sighed, both a little physically and mentally exhausted from the work. "There. It's done."

Vegeta had been doing a rep of sit-ups outside the capsule when Bulma strolled out. He stood and dusted his shorts off with the back of one hand. "Finished?"

"Yep," she eyed him up and down appreciatively, admiring his physique.

"Took you long enough," he growled and tried to ignore the predatory look to her eyes. She obviously liked what she saw.  
_  
Isn't she used to seeing me like this by now?_ He felt a little annoyed. And slightly embarrassed, which was abnormal for him. He never felt self-conscious about his appearance, but now he wished he'd worn more concealing clothes to prevent her from leering at his body. He made a mental note to wear his old armor and the underclothes he'd worn on Namek in the future when training. It would serve to be a more befitting attire than the training shorts Bulma had given to him, and it would prove useful if it would stop Bulma's lecherous eyes from looking all over his body like that.

Not that he hated being admired... it was just weird. He didn't know how he should respond to it.

He snorted, deciding to throw an insult her way to deter her, in case she noticed his slight discomfort. "I guess I had false expectations in you. You spent much more time on that upgrade than I had anticipated. What were you doing in there? Napping?"

Bulma merely scoffed, unaffected by his words. "FYI, that was record-breaking speed, upgrading your little toy in that amount of time. I deserve a medal for that achievement!"

"I find your negligence and habitual tardiness to be record-breaking. And the only medal you deserve is one commending you of being the weakest woman on this planet."

She frowned. "Hey, I'm not _weak_."

"Do I have to remind you of that little sporting bout a few nights ago, where you failed to land a single blow to me?" He smirked. The memory constantly amused him, though not because he'd seen how physically weak she was, but because he'd seen her become so determined to prove otherwise, her pretty face etched in a stubborn scowl.

She laughed. "Oh yeah? Well, you can't deny how magnificently I managed to smash your balls against my kneecap."

_Sickening woman_. Vegeta scowled, a very faint blush burning on his cheeks, which he was only able to hide from her by turning his head a bit. "I _let_ you do that, you idiot," he lied, "I knew if I didn't let you strike me at least once, you would throw a childish fit of rage and begin sobbing. I'd rather die than be subjected to something so unbearable."

"You _let_ me do that? Oh yeah right. Since when do you allow me to have my way against you?" she chortled.

_She had better stop now before my pride is maimed further,_ Vegeta frowned. He was stuck on this one and could think of nothing to say to retort or prove her claims wrong. Because he couldn't. It was true, he was letting her get away with a lot. He would kill anyone else who treated him the same way she did.

"Just let me assure you, it didn't hurt. At all." He simply said, and instantly regretted it. That reply paled in comparison to his usual witty retorts; his catty remarks were generally much more impressive. Was it that he could not keep up with her smart-mouthing? Or was it that her presence was so intimidating that he could not come up with a clever remark quickly enough?

"Speaking of hurt..." Bulma piqued, "Didn't you ask for some medication to get rid of the symptoms you had last night? To ease that troubled conscience of yours, as you said. I was thinking you may benefit from some long-term medication. Antidepressants or something..."

Vegeta's frown grew. "No, I've decided not to. Like a true warrior I will overcome any troubles myself, unaided."

"A _little_ aid wouldn't hurt... Hell, it might make you feel better, and maybe then you won't be such an unappreciative ass."

_Imbecile. I don't need aid as long as_- He quickly cut the thought off. He didn't want to completely admit now that she made him feel better just by talking to him and being there. He was not a fool, though. He did realize that keeping her around to lift his mood was useful, much more so than taking strange drugs. He didn't need to _admit_ it, though. Not to himself, at least not just yet. And certainly not to her.

He glared at the capsule, avoiding having to look at Bulma as he thought. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he slipping around her? It annoyed him. He should find comfort in his own strength and talents... not in her. He didn't _need_ her to make him feel better.

He felt her index finger against his skin as she prodded his bare chest. He snapped out of his daze and glared at her.

She folded her arms, tapping her foot against the grass. "Well?" She raised an eyebrow, watching him expectantly. "Aren't you going to say 'thanks'?"

"For what?"

"Uh, _hello_, did you forget I just spent an hour working on your upgrades... for _free_?"

"Well in that case, if it was 'for free' you wouldn't expect payment in the form of gratitude."

"Ugh! Jerk!" She spun around and stormed off.

He smirked and watched her as she headed toward the house. But he did not go back into the newly upgraded GR to resume his training. He remained rooted to the spot, watching her leave.

Just as she was crossing the lawn to go back inside her house, a shiny black convertible pulled up to the sidewalk. The door opened and out stepped a very handsome man wearing sunglasses. He was well over six feet tall, with blonde hair and a beautifully sculpted jaw.

Bulma stopped and stood still, wondering what this man's intentions could be. Certainly he was not here for business? No, he didn't look to be the type interested in science or patenting inventions.

Had to be another suitor.

The man approached Bulma, and with one hand he whipped his sunglasses off his face (it looked like he'd rehearsed that maneuver), revealing a set of gray eyes.

He smiled and said, "Miss Briefs? I'm Gorn Yeral. I'm sure you know who I am."

Normally, she would have swooned at this point, but Bulma found that oddly she was not phased by the handsome man. And not interested. Why wasn't she? After all, she was now free to do what she wanted; she could have any guy at her disposal. But something about this guy made her uninterested. And just a little uncomfortable.

Choosing to follow her intuition, she kept her guard up. "Er... Sorry, could you refresh my memory?"

"Perhaps you're familiar with a certain Calvein Klein tv spot that has been running on every station as of late," he said in a charming voice.

"Oh. I thought I recognized you." She vaguely remembered seeing the commercial only a hundred times on every channel, her mother always pointing it out, gushing about the cute male underwear model on the tv. Bulma never really paid attention to that commercial - she had usually been preoccupied with thinking angry thoughts about Yamcha, or arguing with him over the phone.  
_  
Well, you've really outdone yourself, Bulma, now you have a famous model chasing after you!_ she thought smugly. But why didn't she feel any excitement? If anything she felt a little uneasy.

Her intuitive discomfort was not unfounded. What she did not know was that this particular man had been involved in fraudulent scams in his past, though his misconduct had not at all tarnished his budding career. No, the bad press had instead helped to build his fame. It was only his handsome face and chiseled body that saved his career.

Gorn gave her an especially charming smile, "I offer you my sincerest condolences for your breakup, Miss Briefs."

Bulma frowned. _This guy had to have read that lame gossip magazine, too. Isn't there anyone who gets their information from reliable sources, and not from stupid articles? _

Gorn continued, "I have to say, though, you're much more stunning in person. Your ex certainly had to have been blind to give up such a rare beauty."

Instantly her uneasiness melted away. She was always up for receiving praise. She laughed, "Well. Maybe not blind, but I'm sure he was a little brain-dead."

Gorn said, "You know, I've noticed the sleeker, more revolutionary design to the line of Hoi Poi Capsules that were introduced last month. That's due to your genius, I'm guessing? They really are much easier to use now, as well as easier on the eye. How very perceptive of you to know that for a product, appearance is just as important as its performance, and just as valued to consumers. I'm glad you took your customers interests into consideration."

_Hm. Well. This guy seems to have some brains to him, for noticing my talents. Perhaps I was mistaken. Maybe he's not all that bad. _She gushed, "Of course. My dad seemed to think the bulkier Capsules were fine, but with my input I had him tweak the design a bit. Turns out Capsules are in demand more than ever, all thanks to my brilliant marketing decisions." She sighed exuberantly, "I don't know what Capsule Corp would do without me."

The model smiled warmly. "Indeed. I can see that the future of Capsule Corporation rests on the shoulders of a very capable heiress."

_Of course_. She smiled and gave a nod.

"But, I have been thinking... perhaps your company could gain a little more sales?"

Her smile faded a bit. _More sales? I don't particularly care about that... we're doing excellently where we stand now..._

"Your company has the potential to take over, I'm estimating, seventy five percent of the market," Gorn said.

She bit down on her tongue slightly, a little irritated now._ Think I don't know that already? You're wrong though, dude_._ I estimate it could be one hundred percent... But Capsule Corp isn't all about money or dominating the market_.

The blonde smiled widely, "I think you may need a little help with forming a better marketing campaign."

_Is he criticizing me or something?_ By this point the man had lost all credibility to her. Though he flattered her tremendously, she could already tell he had little to no redeeming qualities, if he was so interested in her company's monetary income. She had experience dealing with money-hungry hounds, and this guy showed all the symptoms of being one. Kissing up to her was the biggest sign.

"And perhaps a partnership with me could help boost the sales of Capsules," he offered, "Think about it - I can star in commercials advertising for your products. With my looks paired with your intellect, something's sure to come of it. A win-win deal, no?"

_A partnership with him?_ Bulma grimaced. Was he talking about a business partnership, or a _relationship_?

She knew the answer to that; It was probably both. It was made obvious by the way his greedy eyes looked all over her. That fact was further emphasized every time his eyes rested on her bust.

"Well? What do you say?" He moved a little closer, narrowing his eyes slyly, "How about we discuss this over coffee?"

"Hey," The familiar gruff voice called from behind Bulma. Before she could turn her head, Vegeta was suddenly at her side, his arms, as always, folded across his chest. He scowled up at the blonde man condescendingly.

The model blinked in surprise. "Huh? What... Where did you appear from, shorty?" He rubbed his eyes in bewilderment.

Not breaking his piercing eye contact with the tall blonde man, Vegeta said, "Bull-muh. Get started on my dinner, right now."

Bulma pouted. "What? It's the middle of the day!"

"You heard me. Considering how long it takes you to complete even the simplest of tasks, you'll need at least a few hours to prepare my dinner. Now get to it. You're wasting your time on this low-life."

"Excuse me? You'd better watch it, midget," the blonde said in a biting tone, taking a step closer, but instantly backed away, for despite being more than a foot shorter, Vegeta's dark temperament sent a chill down the taller man's spine.

Vegeta smirked connivingly, "You wouldn't want to get between me and my food, now would you? Even my _meals_ have a higher value than your life, cretin. I will not hesitate to tear you limb from limb if you take even one more step closer to me. Now back off."

Gorn began to head back for his car, muttering to Bulma, "Um, I'll swing by here some time later, Miss Briefs... To discuss our... erm, business proposition..."

Vegeta growled, "No. Don't bother coming back, human, unless you'd like the house behind me to be painted with your blood. Such defiling to your corpse is the only proper burial that scum like you deserves."

Bulma buried her face in a palm, wishing she could disappear. _Ugh... at times like this I wish Goku taught me how to do that instant transmission technique!_

The man quickly sped off in fear, not intending to show his face near Capsule Corp ever again.

Bulma spun to face Vegeta. "What was that for? Do you always have to show such hostility to people?"

Vegeta only snorted, as if his behavior was not at all abnormal. "Moron. You should be thanking me. Although it was unintentional, I just saved your sorry ass."

"What are you talking about? Maybe that guy just wanted to befriend me! You never know." She knew that definitely wasn't the case, but she was pissed that Vegeta had butted-in and said something inappropriate, so she had to form some sort of argument against him.

"Oh that's funny, because I'm certain that man had more than _friendship_ on his mind."

Bulma folded her arms. Of course she knew he was probably right, but she continued retorting against his claims, "And what is that supposed to mean? What if he only wanted to talk to me? And you know my mom would have enjoyed meeting the guy, since she's so infatuated with seeing his face in all those underwear commercials! Too bad you had to spoil her fun and chase him away!"

"I didn't spoil any _fun_, moron. Unless you're considering his intention to take advantage of you as fun."

She backed down from the argument a little. "Given my position at this company, I guess that could be plausible. Alright then, explain your reasoning. What makes you think he was planning on taking advantage of me?"

"I'm assuming your weak sense of smell couldn't pick up the rancid stench of lust from that detestable human's loins. Nor could you smell the traces of sadistic intent." He said simply. "He was not interested in forming any sort of friendly attachment to you. He was seeking to destroy you."

Bulma laughed. "Destroy me? What is that supposed to mean?"

Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do I have to make it clearer than that?" He growled, not liking having to explain himself. "If you had closely inspected that human's flamboyant gesticulations and quirky mannerisms as he was speaking to you, you'd conclude that he was up to something. I saw it in that overly-confident gait he emulated as he approached - he was putting on a facade, and a poor one at that. He was unmistakably up to something."

He removed his fingers from the bridge of his nose, giving a snort, "I speculate the whelp was intending to use you as a means to bring down your company's empire, or gain some fame for himself, using your ridiculous 'split' with the scar-face as the perfect opportunity to approach you."

Bulma was stunned. "Wow... You're..." She blinked, trying to reassure herself that the man standing in front of her was indeed Vegeta and not an impostor. "You're very observant, aren't you? I never would have guessed."

He snorted through his nose again, "Common sense, you should invest in getting some for yourself. An elite warrior learns to scope out all potential threats and assesses the situation at all times. You can never be too careful. You should learn to never let your guard down, even around the weakest of opponents."

Bulma raised her eyebrows, "I'm really impressed. All this time I thought you were just a brainless, battle-obsessed heathen, but you're actually very intelligent. You seem to analyze people's behavior down to a T."

"Hmph."

"Well then, tell me, how well are you able to read _my_ mannerisms?"

He scoffed, "With your volatile and unstable mood swings and ever incessant, uncalled-for blather, it's not a walk in the park. For a woman, you're surprisingly haughty."

She grinned. "I know I'm a hottie."

"H-a-u-g-h-t-y. Idiot."

"Fine. But you know, I can look out for myself. You don't need to worry about any scary men trying to steal me away..." _From you_, she thought with an inward chuckle.

"I was only ensuring you'll invest your time on my upgrades, and not on trash humans. Though it appears you already have your priorities straightened out, judging from the way you handled that phone conversation with the other rodent, and how with your shrieking voice you told him off."

Though he knew she was right that she might not have needed his assistance. He didn't need to get involved in her petty affairs. But he had sensed that this particular suitor who approached her had malevolent intentions, the man's malice oddly strong for a human. Vegeta did not doubt that Bulma could probably talk her way out of any unfavorable situation, but if that man was persistent with his pursuits, and adamantly wanted to get what he came for, he would probably have resorted to physically taking advantage of her. Bulma could not help herself in that kind of situation. And she would waste so much time on the man and not on the prince's precious upgrades. That would be unacceptable.

Bulma sighed, "Well, I did get a bad feeling about that guy. I guess you're right, he must have been trouble. So... thanks for chasing that creepy guy off and coming to my rescue, Prince."

"Hmph. I didn't do it to save you. I simply became hungry and I require you to make my meal. That human was in the way."

"Really though. Thanks. Under normal circumstances, I probably would've fallen for that guy. I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there to stop that."

Again the thought of Yamcha crossed her mind, and for a moment she felt the odd, sickening regret. She hated that feeling, so she struggled to force him out of her thoughts.  
_  
I'm single now, I can enjoy myself. I don't need thoughts of Yamcha holding me back... I'm free to do whatever I want!_

She was feeling extra flirtatious now. And right now, Vegeta was the most eligible flirting target for her.

"Well, I guess you're expecting a reward for rescuing me, aren't you?" She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in, but he quickly pulled back.

"Not if _that _is your idea of a reward!"

Bulma pouted, "What, you don't like my kisses?"

"You've given me enough of those annoyingly disgusting things! How many times have you assaulted me with that foul mouth already? Aside from the unending harassment to my ears with your _verbal_ tirades..."

"Oh, you mean how many times have I given you a kiss?"

He pursed his lip.

"Hm... Let's see..." She held up a few fingers, lowering one at a time as she deduced. "Um... Once?"

"_Twice_," he barked, a little angry that she'd forgotten. _He'd_ certainly remembered. How the hell did she forget so easily? Did she just go around kissing any man she came across and thought nothing of it?

He didn't understand why, but somehow the thought of it bothered him.

Bulma laughed, "Well, I don't see why you would have any complaints. Who _doesn't_ want a kiss from me? And I did it because you're my friend. It's a gesture showing I care about you." _And I like seeing how grumpy and embarrassed it makes you,_ she added mentally.

"When the hell did I become your _friend_?" he prompted, baffled that she'd come to such a preposterous assumption.

"Hey, it's not something that needs to be asked. And you definitely aren't an enemy. We're allies, we're on the same team now, and I'm helping you to reach your goals. Isn't that what friends do?" She flashed him an appropriate cheeky grin.

_Sounds more like a slave to me,_ Vegeta thought, though chose not to voice aloud. Somehow he did not feel inclined to crushing the hopes of this girl, smiling at him honestly, her pretty eyes eagerly gazing into his own.

He didn't know why he was still standing there, talking to her. He wanted to continue his training... Yet he didn't really want to leave, either.

He grunted, "In my culture, 'friends' don't bring their slobbering mouths so close to each others faces."

Bulma smirked, and said provokingly, "Are you suggesting that we are more than friends?"

"Not even remotely close!" Though his incessant thoughts of her paired with her constant flirtatious advances to him were leaning in the direction of 'more than friends', and the very thought disgusted him.

"Well, I think you can agree that we don't have a normal friendship. I mean, how many people here are acquainted with a destructive alien?"

His eyelid twitched, betraying his irritation, "And I'm not planning on getting to know any more pathetic Earthlings than necessary."

Bulma studied his face for a moment, then tentatively asked, "You've never had a friend, have you?"

He knew the answer immediately. "Hah. Absolutely not." _What a waste of time that would have been_...

"Not even-" she sighed, collecting her thoughts to search for a good choice of words, before saying extra cautiously, "That brawny Nappa guy?" She was careful when she asked, because she knew Vegeta had killed Nappa. She wouldn't want a repeat of that, only with her life instead, if blasting your comrade to oblivion constituted as Vegeta's idea of friendship.

In a livid tone, Vegeta curtly replied, "Of course not. That brainless oaf had been like a bothersome escort more than a valuable comrade. He had the tendency to get over-excited in battle, he failed to heed my warnings, openly disobeying me on more than one occasion, even if his blatant misjudgment put his own life at risk. He was a fool, and I don't make 'friends' with imbeciles."

Bulma studied his face again, like she was searching for enlightenment. Then she playfully said, "Tell you what, I'll be your first friend ever!" She winked, gazing unrelentingly into the black depths of his eyes.

"Not a chance," he answered simply.

"Oh, don't try to hide it. I know you want to be friends with _me_, the prettiest girl in the universe."

"Oh right. That's my life goal, how could I have forgotten," he said sarcastically, trying to hide his revulsion.

"Is it, now? Perfect! So we _can_ be friends, then!"

"No!"

Once again she pulled her persuasive puppy-dog eyes look, the face it was difficult to say no to, inching closer to him. "Please? I'd _like_ to be your friend."

"N-No," he faltered, his eyelid twitching. She was too close to him now! He had to do something.

He lifted his hand up in preparation to swat her away from him, or if necessary to send her sprawling away. But his muscles went rigid when his lungs took in her potent scent, numbing him like paralyzing nerve gas.

She said innocently, "If you accept my request of friendship, I'll give you something in return. How about a special favor?"

_Ugh. I hope that was not more of her implied sexual innuendo! _He held his breath in, not wanting to lose control in response to her smell. Did she always have to get right up in his face when talking to him? She was so direct and confrontational. She was almost as intimidating as Frieza._  
_  
Bulma slightly turned her head to her left. She focused her eyes on something far off in the distance. Vegeta took notice. What was she looking at? He didn't sense anything behind him.

Her blue eyebrows sprang upward in surprise, and she cried out, "Oh, hey, Goku!"

"Kakarott_?_!" Vegeta jerked his head to look. _That bastard, sneaking up on me! I didn't even sense his-_

With a calculating smirk, Bulma said, "Don't let your guard down, Vegeta."

Just as his head snapped back, in one sly, lithe movement, she jerked his head to her face, her lips landed just barely on the corner of his mouth, unintentionally making it close to a full kiss. She'd only meant to peck him on his cheek, but she missed her mark when he'd quickly spun his head back.

Though she didn't mind that her lips had instead found the corner of his mouth.

She pulled away and licked her top lip, smiling wryly, "Three times now." At the same time she noted to herself, _THAT makes us even, Yamcha! _

Vegeta took a staggering step back, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, before spitting. He kept his balled-up fist against his face, trying to hide his utter shock. He wanted to curse at her, but his vocal chords had oddly become tightened and constricted as soon as her lips had touched him. He could say nothing. He stood there, his eyes wide with astonishment, an eyebrow twitching in an irate fury.

Bulma did not seem at all phased, as if kissing a dangerous Saiyan came easily to her. She stated, "That kiss was to thank you for scaring that guy off. And also to serve as part of the initiation ceremony of our new-found friendship."

Vegeta removed his hand from his face, openly spitting a huge wad to the ground. "Initiation ceremony?" His fists balled-up, tendons rippling underneath the tightened skin, wrath dancing across his eyes, "How about I initiate your _funeral_? _Nobody_ desecrates this face and gets away with it!"

"Oh, how cute. I can see you're bashful around a girl as pretty as me..." she sighed, but a smile was playing around the edges of her lips. "I just couldn't help myself, really. I was curious to see if your mouth tasted like strawberries-" With precision she paused for a moment, before adding, "Like in my dream."

He found this admission to be unsettling. "You _dreamt_ of me?" He was thoroughly horrified. _She's joking. She has to be! _He didn't want to know what she dreamt about involving him. Likely some shameful, vulgar fantasies.

"Of course. You've invaded my life. Why wouldn't I have dreams about you?" she said with a coy smile.

"I don't recall ever giving you permission to dream about me!" he spoke through clenched teeth. Now she was getting comfortable around him, comfortable enough to start dreaming of him, of all things! Hell, if what she was saying was true, it sounded like it was more along the lines of _fantasizing!_

The corner of his mouth where her lips had crashed against began to burn with sweltering heat as blood rushed to his cheeks. He rubbed a hand against his mouth again and spat onto the ground once more. He wanted so badly to run into the nearest bathroom and rinse his mouth off, fearing Bulma's lips carried some sort of neurotoxin, or probably some sort of poison that wold enable her to control his mind.

He struggled to remain calm and appear unfazed as he muttered, "Do that again, and I will very willingly collect fifty humans off the street and pile their corpses onto your bed. Now, prepare my meal!"

She only laughed boisterously, "Is that the Saiyan custom of giving your friends a gift? Piling corpses onto their bed? Well, that won't be necessary, because next time you'll be more than willing for another taste of my lips."

"Fat chance!" Vegeta said stiffly, putting extra emphasis on each word, his embarrassment growing beyond his control at this point, "Food. _Now_."

"You could say please, little caveman!"

"You could learn to cease that noisy racket of yours, you shrewd woman!"

Her forehead creased into a frown, "I am not shrewd!"

"Alright, then. How about something more befitting - _Nag_."

She grimaced, "You did _not_ just call me that."

"Hm, I stand corrected. You're a shrewd, nagging _moron!_"

The fierce scowl on her face became surprisingly menacing. She looked like a cobra ready to strike its prey. "You want me to kiss you again?"

With that threat of hers, he stopped the name calling. _Damn, what an odd woman with her short-temper and mood swings_, Vegeta smirked, his embarrassment fading now that he had succeeded in annoying Bulma. "Just a minute ago you were saying flirtatious things, and now you're enraged. Look how successful I am at pissing you off." He found great amusement in that.

Her frown slackened, and was replaced with a malicious grin, though her eyebrows remained arched, and she stomped closer to him and prodded his bare chest with her finger. "And see how you will be making your own dinner tonight."

"If you won't do it, your mother will be more than willing to fill your place."

"Oh, didn't you know? Mom's going out with her friends tonight. You've got impeccably bad timing!" She jabbed him yet again with her finger.

Vegeta murmured, "That old geezer-"

"If you really want to eat food burned to a crisp and saturated in too much salt and cooking oil, by all means ask him. Dad can't cook worth a damn."

Vegeta growled. He wanted his food! "Unless you start preparing my dinner right now, I'll be more than happy to settle for an alternative," he lowered his chin and sneered, "Roasted _human_."

The shock was evident on her face. "You've got to be kidding! Ew!"

"One of your neighbors might do."

"Vegeta, _no_. You can't seriously be considering it?"

"Idiot. I am an omnivore. I've explained it to you already, I'll settle for eating my enemies if I need to. And every Earthling on this miserable planet is an enemy."

She laughed, "Hah! Why didn't you threaten to eat _me_, then? Or is it you can't bear the thought of losing me? How touching."

He looked her up and down, chuckling, "Don't make me retch. You won't do. You're far too insufficient."

"I beg your pardon?" she felt insulted.

"You look highly unsanitary. And you're on the scrawny side. Hardly enough muscle and fat," he laughed, "I like my meat to have substance."

"Oh really?" She cupped her breasts in her hands, "Then what do you call _these_?"

He jolted back a few feet, appalled by her behavior, his mouth gaped open in disgust. "You _indecent..._"

She turned around and pinched her buttocks, "Ah, and what do we have here? Oh, well whaddya know, I have a nice ass, too! Mmm, look at all this tender meat! Go on, have a feel if you don't believe me!"

He spun around to leave, but she was quick to stop him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and she was once again met with his familiar recoil. "Oh, don't cry. I'll go make your meal now if it'll make you happy."

With her hands she gently squeezed his shoulders, then her fingertips slid down his back as she lowered her hands.

"I am _not_ crying, you dumbass!" He shuddered at her touch. _She just groped her body with those hands... those same hands that are now touching me!  
_  
"You can go back to training if you'd like. Come inside later this evening to get your food!" She waltzed back toward the house. Vegeta turned his head and dejectedly watched her leaving.

_Yes. She does indeed have a nice ass... Ugh, NO! Not these plaguing thoughts!_

A few meters away, she turned on her heel, "Ah. One more thing."

Vegeta twitched. _What, going to feel me up now?_

"Be careful, please."

"Tch."_ If any more unnecessary concern is part of her idea of 'friendship', I don't like it.  
_  
As soon as she disappeared inside her home, he went back into the Gravity Room, but rather than delving straight into his training, he immediately descended to the lower level of the capsule, to where the private quarters resided. He did not like being in the makeshift living quarters of the capsule too much, for the compound smelled of his own blood along with the stench of machinery and lab equipment. It was irritating to his sensitive nose, and for that reason he preferred to sleep in his room in the Capsule Corp building.

Once in the bathroom, he scowled back at his reflection in the mirror. He wanted to make sure his face hadn't started to melt off, after Bulma's lips had almost touched his own. To his relief, his face was intact.

Bringing his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers over the spot where Bulma's lips had brushed him. Nothing felt different. Then, tentatively, he stuck his tongue out and licked the corner of his mouth. Funny, where she had kissed him didn't _taste _like poison, like he had feared. Because Bulma had a harsh, venomous way of speaking, naturally he assumed her mouth was as poisonous as her words.

Well, he wasn't about to find out if her lips were poisonous or not. If she dared to kiss him again, he would follow through with his threat to pile a bunch of human corpses onto her bed. Starting with Yamcha.

Unless what she said held true... that the next time it happened, he would be more than willing to be kissed by her.

* * *

A/N # five million (augh I know I write long author's notes, sorry)-

For this suitor guy's name, Gorn Yeral: This one is kinda stupid... Gorn I got from groin, Yernal from urinal. So derivative! Then I searched gorn on google. It's the name of some alien monster race in Star Trek. I lol'd. Now I'm going to imagine the Gorn Yeral guy as one of those lizard-like aliens. Cannot unsee now.


	10. Chapter 10

It was after 9pm when Vegeta finished his training (this time without any mishaps or accidents) and strolled back into the Capsule Corp house. He entered the kitchen - it was empty of any inhabitants, much to his relief, and as promised his meal waited for him, a feast worthy of royalty laid out on the table. It was a sizable banquet consisting of chicken satay skewers, stir-fry and curry on rice, complimented with steamed bok choy and seasoned mushrooms, along with mini ravioli and broccoli, turkey cutlets milano, noodles and soup as side dishes. It had to have taken Bulma at least a few hours of dedicated perseverance to prepare everything.

He sat down and sampled the food, and at once noted that it was pretty delicious, not at all what he had been expecting from her. But he found that it was a little cold. If Bulma had finished preparing the meal a while ago, why hadn't she come out to tell him to come get his dinner?

It took him just under ten minutes to eat everything, then, feeling just a little generous, and because there were no witnesses, he piled his dishes, then shoved them onto the counter next to the sink.

He searched for the ki of the Briefs' family - he could not find the ditzy blonde woman's energy signal. So she really was out with her friends, after all. He pinpointed that Dr. Briefs was somewhere upstairs, presumably in his bedroom, for his ki was low and stable, an indication that he was asleep. And Bulma...

Vegeta was almost startled when he detected Bulma's ki. It was flaring wildly and he could sense wave upon wave of cascading ferocity. He'd never sensed this much anger from her before.

He was instantly curious to find the reason behind her rage, so he stealthily made his way upstairs to the living room.

The room was dark, save for the light from the tv screen, so she did not notice him as he entered the room. She was watching a movie, and on the coffee table in front of her was an empty carton of ice cream, and candy wrappers littered the floor at her feet. On the television was some romantic flick. A man and a woman gazed into each others eyes, muttering sweet nothings to one another.

Then as the couple on-screen engaged in a deep kiss, Bulma kicked the empty ice cream carton off the table, yelling at the tv, "Don't take him back! Fool!"

Vegeta felt her anger flaring even more wildly at this, and her rage felt similar to blood-lust, like she was preparing to go into battle and rip some heads off. His curiosity peaked intensely now, and he was interested in finding out why she was so angry. The movie she was watching looked pretty lame, but still, that alone wasn't worthy enough to generate such rage from her.

He nimbly moved through the dark room until he was standing next to the sofa. Though still as he approached, Bulma did not seem to notice him at all. Odd, usually she was much more alert to his presence, and he was within her peripheral range of vision. She should have noticed him by now.

Then he spotted the culprit. At her side, propped up on a cushion, was a large bottle of wine, half-empty.

_Ah, she must be drunk_, Vegeta concluded. He'd seen her drunk before, much to his displeasure, but nothing like this. He'd usually avoided her when she drank, but this time her behavior was incredibly aggressive and did not seem to be directed at anyone in particular. Why was she so angry if she was alone, with nobody to provoke her?

Then the romantic movie commenced with a fiery make-out scene, complete with heavy petting and sucking sounds as the two actors' wet lips slammed against each other. Vegeta frowned, disgusted by what he considered to be a down-right vulgar display. He didn't know how these two Earthlings on the screen had the audacity to kiss and suck each others' faces and have it filmed for millions to watch. The soft moans and delightfully over-the-top, passionate cooing of the actors was just as off-putting to him.

_Ugh. Is that what the woman and that wretch weakling wasted so much of their time doing in her bed? Repulsive._ Though he knew that Bulma and Yamcha's past-time bedroom activities had gone even beyond mere kissing and cuddling.

He almost felt the urge to laugh because the love-scene in the movie was way too corny, certainly not what he considered to be a realistic portrayal of any sort of mating behavior. Who the hell _kissed _when mating? What little he knew of sex, he had at least been taught that Saiyans usually did not kiss and touch each other too much, if at all, during fornication, or even outside of sex. They screwed quickly and got it over with. They had battles to fight; enjoying reproduction was not viewed as very important. Showing affection was seen as embarrassing and weak.

Although... that rule mostly accounted for peasants. Those of a royal lineage could do whatever they wanted without having their credibility of strength questioned. Though even royal class Saiyans weren't known to give public displays of affection, however. They only showed admiration for their partners in private, even rarely around their family members or children.

Vegeta had only once seen his father give any sort of affection to his mother, though not physical. It had been during a particularly quiet evening, right after they'd returned from a newly conquered planet. The King had stared into his Queen's eyes with a look the young Prince couldn't quite place, not at that age, and still today he didn't understand. It was an oddly soft look; the Saiyan King was cruel and merciless, but that evening he'd looked so at peace and content with her. He never even looked at his son in such a way.

Still, Vegeta had never seen that look again, not from his father or anyone, so he never found out what it meant and what significance it held.

As the film shifted over to a mild sex scene, to Vegeta's surprise, Bulma picked up the remote and chucked it at the tv, while shouting at the screen, "She's faking it, you moron!" She missed completely. The remote hit a picture frame hanging on the wall instead.

"Your terrible aim is even _worse_ now that you're drunk."

Bulma jolted slightly, surprised and finally aware that Vegeta was in the room with her. Quickly she raised a hand to her face. Only then did Vegeta see that her cheeks were stained with tears.

She wiped a fresh tear away, carefully holding back any emotion in her voice, "Dad went to bed early, so if you were planning on asking him to repair your training bots, you'll have to wait 'till tomorrow."

_I didn't come in here for that_. He could see she was visibly upset and angry, so he prodded for an answer behind her temperament; not directly, of course. "Why the hell didn't you tell me my meal was ready?"

Bulma sniffled, "Oh, right... Sorry... Something came up, and I guess I forgot to tell you. Did you enjoy your din-din?"

He was visibly offended. "And what 'came up' to make you forget? What could possibly be more important than my needs?"

Bulma's bottom lip quivered, and Vegeta almost wished he hadn't asked.

Her voice was broken when she spoke, "I got a call from my friend Launch... She told me... Maron was hitting on Yamcha, and he flirted back with her. And he let her kiss him!" She burst into tears.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. _'Launch'? 'Maron'? Hn, more Earthlings I couldn't care less about, I presume. And 'Yamcha'... Ah, that's the weakling's name. _

Bulma grabbed her bottle of wine and chugged down a good portion of what remained, then she tossed the nearly empty bottle to her side on the sofa. She was glaring as she watched the tv, and Vegeta continued to scrutinize her face. He did not understand why she would be so upset over a weakling. He'd let another woman touch him... and that was news to Bulma? Wasn't she already aware of that? And didn't she just end the relationship with him for good? So why the hell was she crying?

Vegeta had occasionally smelled different women on the weakling, so hadn't Bulma smelled it either? But then again, these humans had weak senses. She probably _couldn't_ smell it.

He didn't pity these Earthlings for their weak, diluted senses, but in this case he found it unfair that Bulma, a genius with a magnificent intellect, had been living in the dark about Yamcha's unfaithfulness. If she couldn't rely on her sense of smell to detect the other women on him, who knows how long she'd been fooled. He'd probably been deceiving her for years. She didn't deserve to bemistreated by a weak, stupid scar-faced man. Not that Vegeta actively _cared_, but still, it was such a pity.

After a few minutes, little by little he sensed her rage subsiding. He guessed it was due to the alcohol taking its effect. He guessed right when she spoke.

"Yo, Vegeta." Her tone was now loose and carefree.

"What now?" he replied, agitated.

Bulma cocked her head, watching him. "You know, despite having a scary, impish little face, you are kinda handsome."

"Impish?" he growled. _She just backhandedly insulted me, then complimented me under the same breath. She's drunk, alright._

Bulma leaned a little closer to him, squinting her eyes as she peered at him. "No... I take it back... You're not simply handsome. You're beautiful."

Vegeta snorted, "I wouldn't say _beautiful_, but are you all that surprised? I come from a royal bloodline, my elite ancestors always selected the best spouses, and naturally they bred with the most superior and privileged in appearance. I received the best of the gene pool. And of _course_ I look better than all the trash humans you are so used to seeing on this planet."

He turned his eyes away from her, sneering at the tv screen. "Though looks alone aren't everything. You should know that better than anyone."

He knew she was too drunk to notice that he had obscurely complimented her.

Bulma nodded clumsily, "Hmm. Right. I am the perfect blend of beauty and brains. And so naturally I am only into men who are just as smart and good-looking as me."

Vegeta chuckled, taking a stab at a fresh wound of hers, "And I suppose that 'Yamcha' guy was an exception?"

At hearing Yamcha's name, Bulma downed the last of the wine and slammed the empty bottle against the table in front of her. "Being with him was a mistake!"

"Obviously."

"And I sure as hell am glad I didn't end up getting married to him, after all!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, "Married? is that another stupid Earthling ritual?" He knew he'd heard that term somewhere before... Ah, yes. That would mean she would become the wife of Yamcha. In other words, his permanent personal slave. Gross.

"It is kind of stupid, I guess... I'm glad I said no to him." She sighed, "Not that he ever really proposed to me. Not properly, he only suggested it. And then he told me I'm getting old!" Her tears were returning. "Oh, who am I kidding? Maybe I should have married him! We're all going to die when the androids show up and I'll never have experienced what it's like to be married! I have less than three years left to live and I'll get old and nobody will want me!" She bawled.

Vegeta was taken aback to see her break-down and show such vulnerability. She was usually so composed and strong, as well as incredibly confident. But seeing her like this was somehow unsettling. Her, the bravest being he'd ever met, crying over a useless man who had mistreated her.

Bulma made no effort to hide her tears now, "Even though he's a jerk... and the sex wasn't great... I still miss him a little. He was one of the only friends I had. I'm so lonely..."

Vegeta frowned. "Unbelievable. After the deceit he dealt you, you still want him? Why would you settle for insufficient, third-rate trash?"

"He's not a bad person... he's just... he..." She burst into tears again, "Maybe if I was younger he'd want me... maybe that's why he accepted Maron's advances, and watches the women in those exercise shows... sneaking behind my back was unforgivable, but I want him to want me... I'm used to guys wanting me!"

She was rambling at this point, and Vegeta could only roll his eyes, bored. Bulma sniffed, "It probably sounds weird to you, but I don't want him back, I want him to love me without me returning the favor. I want to feel like I'm desired. But why would he go after Maron? She's nothing compared to me! Is it because he likes younger looking girls? But I don't even have any wrinkles yet... Is he superficial about age being a number? He's the same age as me though! How... how can he-"

Vegeta groaned, tired of hearing about Yamcha, whom he couldn't care less about. "Look, enough about him! Don't waste your time on this nonsense! Forget that worthless whelp and focus on helping _me_ reach my goals!"

She sniffled again, but her eyes lit up. "What? Are you... are you finally asking me out on a date?"

"Moron! No! I'm saying you should dedicate all of your time on something useful, like upgrading the Gravity Room!"

"Well whaddya think I've been doing lately? I don't have a social life so I've been helping _you_! Who just spent their afternoon fixing your little machine, then their entire evening cooking your stinkin' dinner? Me!" She took up her soft crying once again, "And I don't have a boyfriend anymore, so I have more free time on my hands to help you... A _lot_ of free time... I don't really have anyone else to talk to. I don't have many friends..."

Vegeta let a sigh out through his nose. Then he suddenly sat down on the sofa next to Bulma, the force of his body hitting the cushion started her. He turned to face her, a stoic look on his face. "Don't take this the wrong way. Tell me, what goes through your tiny brain every time you lay your eyes on me? Is it fear? Loathing?"

She blinked, confused. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Do you think of me as the Saiyan who killed your companions - your man - and view me as a threat, for how I will one day rule over your planet and enslave your people? But most of all, do you feel regret, for betraying your race by helping me, by, as you put it, 'befriending' me?"

She looked him squarely in the eye. "I don't regret helping you."

"Then what? You don't fear me at all, do you? If that's the case, do you feel an obligation to help me?"

She mulled over his words. "I feel... that you are lonely... and you need to receive some kindness in your life."

He was baffled and a bit disgusted. "You're not serious."

"Well, your face looks a little scary sometimes, but I think it's only because you aren't used to people being nice to you, so you make those mean faces to chase us off."

"Don't be so ignorant. Where would you get the absurd idea that I would need to receive kindness? I don't need nor do I want to be cossetted by anyone!" He stroked his forehead with an index finger, a crease forming as he frowned, slightly annoyed. "Now, answer this. Don't you feel any hatred toward me for killing your friends?"

"You didn't kill them yourself. It was those ugly green monsters, under that Nappa guy's bidding."

"Like that makes a difference. I was the one who gave them the order to execute your friends."

"Well, I've forgiven you for your past actions, and the choices you made."

"You forgive me so easily? For what you Earthlings would deem to be inexcusable behavior," he chuckled cruelly, "You would be wise to be wary of my intentions, little human."

"Well duh, of course I forgive you. I wouldn't have offered to let you live at my house if I didn't."

_She forgave me that long ago?_ He frowned, perplexed by this revelation. "I'd expected you to at least hold a grudge against me."

"I don't hold meaningless grudges, at least not for long. Sure I'll stay mad at someone, but after a while I just let it go. I guess because in the end it doesn't really matter."

He would have brought up the subject of Yamcha again, because Bulma seemed to be much too angry at him still to let that go anytime soon, but he decided he didn't want her to resume her annoying bawling. He wondered how she could possibly be unable to hold a grudge against anyone. She was a strong, fearless woman, so did holding no resentment against anyone attribute to her strength? And what did that make of him, for holding a grudge against Goku?

Once again she was proving herself to be stronger than him.

Though he wasn't about to let his anger against Goku fade. No - payback was in order. The humiliation Goku dealt him was something he couldn't forgive so easily. His honor was staked on it.

Bulma looked over Vegeta, as if trying to decipher something. Unable to find enlightenment, she said, "Why did you ask if I feel fear or hatred when I look at you?"

"Because-" He subconsciously folded his arms above his chest in a guarding manner, "You can't be that stupid. You know what I am. I'm not one of you Earthlings, and I don't care what happens to the people on this planet. I'll kill any one of you who gets in my way. Despite this, I don't see how you could so easily and naively accept me. As a friend, no less."

"Why not?" She quipped, "I like you. And I trust you," she smirked, adding, "And apparently I don't get in your way, because you haven't killed me."

He had nothing to say against that. He only muttered, "Not yet."

On the tv, the soppy romantic flick ended, and the next movie began - a horror movie. While Bulma watched the film, Vegeta barely paid it any attention. He was still trying to figure out the woman sitting next to him. How could she be so fearless? She was living with a formidable Saiyan Prince, the same who had once terrorized the Earth and attempted to reduce the planet to space dust.

And now she felt free to befriend him, and talk back to him, hell, even flirt with him, in Vegeta's book the most dangerous game of Russian roulette she could play. He couldn't even scare her off by threatening to kill her... though that was probably because she knew his threats were empty. He didn't think he could ever bring himself to harm her. She was mentally strong, but her body was so delicate. It amazed him that such a fragile creature could possess a bold, loud mouth.

Five minutes into the film, the carnage began. A young man was strapped to a gurney, unwillingly having his limbs sliced off with a machete by some psycho serial killer, and fake blood splattered against the walls of the film set.

Vegeta glanced up at the tv upon hearing the screams. He frowned. "Could they have made this any more unrealistic?"

Bulma sighed and stood up. She seemed to have regained her composure, her face dry and free of any tears. "I'm gonna get something to drink from the kitchen. You want anything?"

"Upgrades."

Bulma pouted. "No, seriously. You don't want any champagne or something? You aren't much of a conversationalist, but y'know, I could use a drinking buddy."

"No. Definitely not," he said with a harsh growl. He hated alcohol - the smell of it burned his nostrils, and the fact that Frieza had been fond of drinking wine made him even less inclined to want to drink it. He didn't want to ingest any beverage that Frieza had been quite fond of. He didn't care if others drank alcohol, but as for himself, he did not want to be associated in any way with that monster.

Bulma groaned and left to fetch her drink, while Vegeta continued to observe the poorly acted out carnage in the movie. He knew what death looked and sounded like, and the howling of the actors on the screen did not compare to the real blood-curdling screams one makes when being slaughtered. He'd heard that death cry many times, a sound he could never forget.

He'd grown used to the sound of death. As a child he had not been too fond of it at first, only disassociating himself from pitying his victims by imagining that with every person he killed, he was one step closer to reaching his goal: killing Frieza. But during his late teen years, he'd gradually come to enjoy taking the lives of the innocent, living for the kill. Slaughtering people became a joy ride, utterly thrilling to him. No longer had the sight and smell of death bothered him. Killing women, children, the old and the sick had become fun. And watching them writhe and struggle to escape before he obliterated them made his days bearable. He'd even come to compare his victims to insects. There were so many of them, running around in a panic, and they were so easy to kill.

Suddenly the uneasiness of the memory of his bloodstained past crept over him once again.

As he wallowed in a plethora of clashing emotions, Bulma returned and plopped down lazily onto the sofa. Vegeta's attention was divided to her then, and he did not fail to notice that she was getting friendly with a heavy bottle of vodka; it was already half-empty, so she had probably spent some time drinking it while in the kitchen, or when heading back to the living room. If she couldn't wait to drink it while in the living room, she had to be pretty desperate to get drunk quickly.

She brought the bottle to her lips, and nearly drained the entire thing of its contents in one huge gulp. She exhaled and smiled, eying the horror movie on the television. "Ah, now this is more like it. I'd rather watch this scary movie instead of that sickening romantic comedy."

Vegeta snorted. He had found nothing comical about the previous movie.

Now in the horror film, a masked man wielding a kukri knife in one hand and a sickle in the other chased after a bunch of teenagers. One teen fell down, and the killer did not hesitate to hack the kid into pieces.

Though a little entertained by the faux bloodshed, Vegeta could not help but burst out into mocking laughter, "How can you watch this? That is _not _how you kill someone!" Amused, he suggested to Bulma, "Perhaps you'd be more entertained watching me show you how to properly kill a human."_ Like that Yamcha bastard, _he smirked at the thought.

Bulma did not respond. She seemed engrossed in the movie, but her eyes were unfocused, and Vegeta realized that she was getting even more hammered. She hiccuped and took another swig of her vodka, then she dropped the empty bottle to the floor, and it rolled across the carpet before disappearing under the sofa.

She turned her head to look at Vegeta, and he stiffened as she gazed at him unrelentingly for what had to be a minute. He could tell she was completely inebriated at this point, by the way her body swayed lazily with her pulse.

Then without warning she scooted closer to him, closing the distance between them on the sofa, and she eyed him up and down. Vegeta recoiled slightly. He felt an uncomfortable tingling feeling in his scalp that quickly crept all the way down his spine.

Then she spoke, her words slurred, "Hey, Vegeta... there's something I want. And you can give it to me."

He reproachfully raised an eyebrow, "And that is?"

"Sex."

He almost fell off the sofa. "WHAT!"

She sighed, seemingly unaware of his major discomfort. "I haven't had a decent fling in such a long time... I need it."

He sputtered before shouting, "NO! Are you insane_?_!"

"No, I'm horny."  
_  
That's it, she's absolutely lost her mind. This woman is completely intoxicated! _Though he had to admit that he was intoxicated as well, but in a different way - by the hungry look in her eyes that in turn was driving him wild. But he was determined to resist.

He darkened his temperament. "And what makes you think I'd just willingly give it to someone like _you_?"

"After today, you've shown me how intelligent you are... It only makes me like you more. I've never met anyone like you."

"Of course you haven't, I'm an elite Saiyan! Nobody in this universe can compare to me!"

Bulma grinned slyly, "So then, elite Saiyan... Do you want to be more than friends?" She traced her fingers down his chest and across his abdomen, and he shuddered. She mumbled drunkenly, "We can do it right here if you like."

He was caught off guard, he had not detected the distinct smell of her human arousal, for it was masked by the alcohol on her breath. And now he had been suddenly forced into this dangerous courtship game with her. A game he'd never cared to play, never had experience in. This was a game he could not win.

He swallowed an extra large dose of discomfort. "You're out of your mind, woman. You're _drunk_."

"No I'm not. I didn't even drink that much," she retorted. Of course she did not realize just how drunk she was.

Vegeta scowled. "Is this your idea of getting back at that weakling?"

"Mh? What?"

_Ugh. Good thing she's so out-of-it that by tomorrow she won't remember anything I say_. He hesitated before he muttered, "If you want to copulate with me, it should be because you stupidly pine after me, not for the sickening reason of getting even with your weak man. I don't intend to be a pawn of such a meaningless and trivial matter of yours."

"And what if I told you I want you and I don't care about getting even with him?"

"I would know you're lying."

Her smile only grew, "You're even smarter than I thought."

"And you expected any less?"

"So, if I want to do you because I like you and not to get back at Yamcha, you'll accept?"

_I can't believe we're discussing this_! He snarled fiercely, trying to scare her away, though he knew she would not be afraid of that. "How about we don't do _anything_, _period_, unless it involves me _murdering_ you?"

She pouted. "Aw, why not? You're a man, don't you want it more than I do?"

_You don't even know how much I'd like to fuck you senseless right now_. "No."

"Well, _I _want it."

"Hn. Of course. Because you're a vulgar woman."

"And I want to do it. With you."

"Oh _really_," he bit out his words. I_s she actually interested in screwing me, or is this merely a product of her drunken babbling? Stupid harlot!  
_  
"Then let's get it done." She traced her hand down to his inner thigh. He cringed.

_Damn she's persistent! What a voyeuristic girl! _He knew he was losing this battle against her and unable to fend her off, so he decided to switch tactics.

He lowered his eyelids and one corner of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile.

"How much do you want it?"

"Oh, badly," she answered easily.

"Well, you're going to have to earn it, slave."

"Mmmh. Tell me what I have to do," she brought her head down and traced a few kisses down his neck. He was startled by her aggressive, dominating flirting, and he lurched away in disgust and horror.

"Upgrade the Gravitron to a maximum of _ten thousand_ times gravity!" He chose an impossible request. He knew she wouldn't be able to get the GR to sustain that high a number. He was hoping to discourage her.

But he was surprised when she did not seem dissuaded by such a demanding proposition. She eagerly answered, "Okay. I'll order the components tomorrow."

"What? You couldn't possibly-"

He was cut off as she maneuvered herself onto his lap, and she pulled her shirt off over her head, tossing it to the floor.

Vegeta yelped, "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Bulma frowned, her eyebrows framing her drooping eyelids. "What do you think? Sex."

"I told you, _after_ you upgrade the Gravitron I might consider rewarding you!" His face was red now and he was drenched in his own nervous sweat.

"But I want it now!" Bulma whined, squirming around in drunken impatience. She was straddling him, her hips pressed against his legs, pinning him to the sofa. He could barely move, his body frozen in a mix of fear and desire. He wanted to shove her off, but his forearms were cramped up, tense and quivering slightly.

He could only growl to objectify, "Woman. You are _too much_. Much more troublesome than you're worth! Now get off!"

She didn't seem to listen. She brought her hands up and began fumbling around with the clasp on her bra, and Vegeta had to grab her wrists to stop her from stripping it off as well. "Settle down!" He eyed her bra cautiously, fear in his eyes, "You'd better not take that dangerous looking thing off if you know what's good for you."

"What dangerous thing?"

"That death trap," he muttered.

"Huh? Oh this? It's my bra. It gives my boobs support and makes them look extra nice."

Vegeta studied her full breasts. _Yes... god damn, they do look very nice_... _NO! _He forced himself to look away. He easily decided bras were unsafe, for it looked like it could put an eye out or strangle him with those straps. He was afraid the thing was rigged with explosives, in case the purpose of a bra was to be an explosive weapon triggered in the event that some pervert attempted to do some lecherous grabbing. The bra must have been an Earthling woman's weapon for self-defense. He didn't know why it would be used for any other purpose, not even to make a woman's tits look better, like Bulma had said.

Because he was sure her tits looked extra nice without needing the assistance of a bra.

He shut his eyes to avoid looking at the alluring female sitting on his lap, and pissed at himself for where his train of thought was heading, so he had to keep from staring at her as further fuel for his lewd musings. "Keep that thing away from me. Now, get off, or I will blast you off!"

Bulma burst out into laughter.

He opened his eyes and glowered into hers. "What is so _funny_?"

"Blast off!" she snorted, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

His blush deepened. "There is _nothing_ funny about that, you stupid drunk! Now get the hell off!" He began raising his ki, hoping she at least had the ability to sense his growing discomfort and anger. He didn't want to lift her off his lap or shove her away, because he feared that simply touching her would produce a more carnal response in his own body, and he would blindly ravish her.

Bulma giggled, "Wow, Vegeta, you are funny as well as smart and handsome... The more time I spend with you, the more I learn about you. And the more I come to like you."

This time Vegeta could not bring himself to look away, and he took in every detail of her slender figure.

His eyes were drawn to her lips again, and he remembered that near-kiss she'd given him earlier that day... _tricked_ him. He'd need to punish her for that. He wondered what else those pretty lips of hers could do, what other services her mouth could perform on him. He briefly considered just tackling her to the ground to find out.

He forced the thoughts from his mind, ashamed. Since when had he started thinking this way? He'd never particularly cared to think about perverse things before. It must have been the influence of this vulgar woman! She was always saying lewd, suggestive things to him, like 'Don't try to do anything naughty to me.' And in front of everyone, so shamelessly! And now here she was, nearly naked and straddling him, and because of her he was envisioning lecherous things! He concluded she must be using some sort of mind control over him. She invented the Dragon Radar and helped improve her father's artificial gravity simulator; it wouldn't surprise Vegeta if she could create a device to control minds.

All his life he'd only cared about reaching his own selfish goals, killing people and taking over every galaxy in sight. And, of course, courtship behavior had been adamantly outlawed by Frieza, who always warned Vegeta that if he even had an inkling or urge to reproduce, or simply looked at any female with interest, he would be castrated without hesitation by Dodoria, who was, after many years of experience dealing with perpetrators of the law, an expert castrater.

Frieza had feared the rebirth of the Saiyan race, and any other race that had the potential to oppose him, so with every low-ranking soldier in the Planet Trade Organization, reproduction was, for the most part, illegal. Any suspicious behavior among horny soldiers was monitored closely, and law breakers were immediately dealt with. And Frieza kept an especially close watch on Vegeta's actions, because he did not want the Saiyan Prince to have an heir who could potentially surpass him in power. So naturally Vegeta avoided making the mistake of satiating his more primal needs. It was not worth risking death for just a quick fling.

As he'd gotten older, he hadn't been opposed to the idea of rape. He'd seen it happen a lot when on assignments with Nappa and Raditz. They'd quietly sneak around behind Frieza's back, like most other soldiers in the Planet Trade Organization, light years away from the usurper's wrath, but still making sure to destroy the evidence of their lustful crimes by killing the women they'd despoiled.

But though in those days he hadn't viewed rape as worse than the mass genocides carried out by his hand, Vegeta never partook in any of it. It was mostly because he didn't want nor did he care to be physically close to anyone. He had grown cold and indifferent, and even the notion that his actions might inadvertently cause any woman he'd rape to feel the slightest bit of pleasure, even if it was unintentional, disgusted him. He didn't want to risk making anyone else feel good when he couldn't feel good himself.

And he had more self-control than Raditz and Nappa. On many occasions throughout his life he'd gone for lengthy periods of time without eating, drinking, or sleeping. Sex was no different; however, it was not a basic necessity. He did not need it to survive. He'd found sex to be a laughable and disgraceful act, especially interspecies fornication, like Raditz and Nappa had engaged in. Vegeta was sure he would find more enjoyment in killing Frieza.

He hated to obey Frieza's laws, but he didn't have much say in the matter. And he would not have lowered himself by sneaking around just to satisfy one desire.

Although...

Now he was free from the shackles of that over ruler. He had the freedom to do as he desired. He _could_ pursue the woman just to spite Frieza...

His thoughts were interrupted when Bulma slumped over against him, lying flat across his thighs. She was snoring.

Vegeta was astounded. _I DON'T believe this. She fell asleep! ON TOP OF ME!_ He would be outraged if it wasn't for the embarrassment that was overpowering all other emotions.

Several minutes passed, and Vegeta could not move, for fear that he would risk waking her up, and she would continue to seduce him. He decided to wait until her breathing had slowed and he was certain she was in a deep sleep before making his escape.

In the meantime, he did sort of like the feeling of her body so close to his own... Just sort of.

But for a moment his conscience was clouded with darkness. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to kill her now, before she became a problem. He could strike her down to prevent any more of her nuisances and interruptions. She was vulnerable, asleep on his lap, blissfully unaware that he was considering taking her life. He would spare her from feeling pain by killing her quickly in her sleep.

He looked at her tiny ribcage, and his Saiyan blood promised him the fortune of how good it would feel to crush her bones right then and there, fracture her ribs and pierce her heart.

By animal instinct, with both hands he grabbed her sides, unconsciously preparing for the kill. He applied just a slight amount of pressure, but hardly enough for her to register even if she was awake.

But he did not squeeze the life out of her. Through his fingertips, her skin and muscles felt so thin and fragile. He was startled by just how thin her skin was. How could this skin of hers protect her vital organs from an enemy's attacks? How could this thin, weak human skin serve to protect her body from damage?

She didn't stand a chance against the androids like this.

What a shame. She was such a strong woman, only literally was she thin-skinned. She could be killed so easily. How the hell could she ever defend herself?

He removed his hands from her ribcage and stared at her bare back for a few minutes, contemplating as he looked over her translucent skin.

While the horror movie showed a scene of people being massacred in a hailstorm of bullets, Vegeta slowly and tentatively raised an arm, tracing his fingers along her bare back, testing her skin. There was a bit more muscle here compared to the skin surrounding her ribcage, but still not enough to protect her.

Though he'd only intended to test the durability of her skin, he continued to prod at the skin on her back with his fingertips. It was her slinky back that he tended to keep his eyes on whenever he wasn't staring at her ass instead, when she walked away from him or as she worked on repairing the GR, huddled over. She was the only person in the entire universe who could turn her back on him and live, and for that reason he always found himself staring at her back, and subconsciously both liking and hating the view. Her pretty, lithe figure, how often he had thought of touching her, that now he could feel without being screamed at. Through his fingers he felt how soft and smooth her skin was, softer than he ever imagined was possible for a living creature. His own skin was rough and worn from his many battles, so the softness of her skin came as a surprise to him. Then again, he never made a habit of touching anyone, unless it involved his fist slamming into their face.

In those few moments of touching her skin, he knew further resistance would be next to impossible. Eventually he had to have this woman, though perhaps it would be after he survived the onslaught of the androids. Though he wasn't sure if she wanted him in return. She did habitually tell him not to do anything naughty to her, and now here he was, tracing his fingertips across her back. He was sure that if he would touch her while she was conscious, and not drunk, she may bite his hands off. Or worse, shriek at him and bitch him out. Could it be that she was out of her mind from the alcohol, or was the alcohol unlocking her inhibitions... and she secretly wanted him?

He snapped his head up when he heard the distant sound of the front door shutting. It was Bunny, having just returned from her night outing. Vegeta knew the outcome would be unfavorable if the blonde woman were to walk in and see a drunk and unconscious Bulma lying on top of him on the sofa.

He took his chances and shoved Bulma off his lap and laid her down on the sofa. Luckily she did not stir. Already she was in a deep slumber, thanks to all that alcohol. Vegeta thought of leaving immediately, but hesitated at seeing her lying on the sofa with her shirt off, tossed to the carpet. He wasn't sure if it was normal for Bulma to go around the house with her shirt off, or if her mother would think something was up at seeing her unconscious and shirtless daughter draped across the sofa. If the latter was the case, there was the off chance that Bunny would come to the preposterous assumption that Vegeta had stripped the shirt off her daughter.

Hastily and cursing at his ill-fate, Vegeta snatched the shirt off the floor and tried to force it back on Bulma, struggling tremendously. The shirt was very small and tight, and all the while he angrily wondered why these Earth women always had to wear skin-tight clothing. And it was very difficult for him to put the shirt back on, because it smelled too good.

Finally, he managed to get it back on... and to his horror he realized it was on backwards, _and_ inside out.

_Just my luck! _He ground his teeth together, his nose wrinkling up as he snarled. _God damned wench!_

He sensed Bunny was ascending the staircase, and he decided he had no further time to lose to correct his mistake. He was already gone when Bunny came into the living room.

"Oh Bulma, I just had the most wonderful time!"

She stopped her chattering when she noticed Bulma asleep on the couch. Bunny headed over to the tv to turn it off, just in time to see blood gushing from the orifices of a victim's face in the movie.

* * *

Vegeta lay on his bed, his hands folded behind his neck, glaring up at the ceiling. By now his pulse had stilled, and it no longer felt like his heart and internal organs were about to burst. He could hardly believe the events that had transpired just a few minutes earlier.

He couldn't believe he'd promised to reward her with sex, even if he wasn't really planning on following through with a worthless promise like that, and how the inebriated Bulma would probably forget such a proposition had occurred the next morning when she would be greeted by a hangover.

But then again, he could hardly believe a lot of the things he'd said to her lately. It was uncharacteristic of him. No, rather, perhaps it was her influence on him that was causing him to loosen-up.

Under normal circumstances, he would have easily concluded that Bulma was just a coquettish woman, seeking the attention of any male as a means of fueling her self-esteem, but after the encounter with her suitors earlier that day, Vegeta realized she did not like that kind of attention from men. No, she was after her own interests, seeking her own satisfaction.

There was a darker side to her, the gutsy, smoldering temptress who had to get what she wanted and fulfill her own desires, even going so far as to try to manipulate the Saiyan Prince. She was a peculiar and baffling woman, indeed. Though she told Vegeta not to do naughty things to her, she ended up asking him for a quick fling. Hypocritical and two-faced it seemed, he found her calculating manners and self-interest to be amiable. Amiable because she was so much like him. And the more similarities he found that she shared with him, the more he came to like her company.

And he was a little flattered that she seemed to want to do it with him. Although perhaps she wanted it only to satiate herself, still she, a highly desired woman who could have any man she wanted, chose to demand it from him, the dark, brooding alien.

Well, he thought it would only be natural for her to want him, he was a mighty Saiyan Prince, after all. And Bulma seemed to want to take what she couldn't have.

However, before now Vegeta had never met any woman who seemed interested in getting sex from him, let alone get to know him. Although that was due to the fact that while under the regime of Frieza, any woman he came near seemed to be much more interested in pleading to be spared, before he'd snuff their lives out, slaughtering women and children alike without batting an eye.

He'd grown used to detaching himself from feeling for those he killed, sparing himself from feeling any traces of guilt by convincing his conscience that they were weak, and above all, that they had it coming, and he was doing them a favor. In this way he never felt bad for the killings dealt by his hand. Instead, he found that he enjoyed it.

It seemed forgetting about that part of his past was proving to be easier said than done. The discomfort found its way in the pit of his stomach again, like a foul aftertaste of bile returning to his mouth, and he had to force the memories away only by assuring himself of the prospect that one day he would ascend to become a Super Saiyan, and then those memories of his past would not matter to him any more.

* * *

**A/N**- I hope it wasn't too weird to mention Maron (not Krillin's daughter Marron. I'm talking about his ex girlfriend... The fickle blue-haired filler character with 50 boyfriends, remember her?) But in the anime she did flirt with Yamcha, in front of Bulma, too. So I thought it would be fine to mention her. She's nothing more than a filler character, after all. She can be manipulated to my advantage in any way I see fit.


	11. Chapter 11

Bulma woke up with what was easily the most agonizing hangover she had ever experienced.

On top of that, because she'd fallen asleep on the sofa, she had taken up a straining back ache, her muscles sore and tired from her body's constant tossing and turning in an attempt to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. Her hair was in a distressed state as well, though not even close in comparison to the disastrous curly afro she had.

She rolled off the sofa and staggered to her feet, her knees wobbling as she headed for her private bathroom, all the while holding a palm against her head, applying heavy pressure to distract herself from the pain of her hangover.

She groaned as she looked back at her reflection in the mirror; her mascara had smudged around her eyelids while she slept, leaving an appearance that she had dark circles around her eyes. She then proceeded to spend a few minutes cleaning her face and re-applying mascara, muttering under her breath, "Ugh. This is just _wonderful_... Starting my morning with a headache and nausea... Why did I have to drink so much last night?"

She groaned even louder in disdain when she remembered the reason she'd wanted to get drunk in the first place. To forget about Yamcha.

Several minutes later, she finished her daily make-up application ritual and clumsily headed downstairs, making her way into the kitchen. Her parents were at the table eating breakfast, and lurking in a corner of the room was Vegeta, scarfing down a huge plate of food.

As soon as Bulma entered the kitchen, he looked up from his plate and kept his eyes on her, carefully studying her every movement like a watchful hunter.

"Oh Bulma, you're up early! What a pleasant surprise!" Bunny called out gleefully, "Here, come sit with us! I made blueberry pancakes!"

Bulma sat down, sighing loudly to voice her discontent to all in the room, "Hey mom, do you know where the ibuprofen is? I've got a splitting headache."

She knew it would be a good idea to not mention that she was actually suffering the symptoms of a hangover, to save herself from being scolded. Her mother didn't like for Bulma to ingest so much alcohol in one sitting.

"No, sorry, I think it's all out," Bunny said apologetically.

"Oh _really._ Great," Bulma sighed. She grabbed a plate and helped herself to a few pancakes, while setting aside a fresh cup of coffee, brewed for her by the courtesy of her mother. As she started to pour maple syrup over her pancakes, she glanced up to see that Vegeta was still staring at her as he shoved food into his mouth, a neutral, indifferent look on his face, save for his eyebrows that were always arched down stoically.

Bulma pulled a face, sneering at him, but that did not deter him from his staring, his passive expression not changing at all in reaction to her scowl. He kept his eyes locked on her, no discernible emotion behind their black depths.

Feeling suddenly intimidated and pissy at being unable to get him to react to the leering face she made, Bulma stared down at her pancakes as she ate them, avoiding having to make eye contact with Vegeta.

_Jeez... What's the deal with him? Is he in a bad mood today or something? Oh, I know. Is it that he just finds me so friggin' hot he can never look away?_ She tore through her food angrily, hoping the latter was the case, for the sake of her ego.

"Did you have fun last night?" Bunny asked her daughter.

Vegeta stopped chewing his food, watching closely to see Bulma's reaction and trying hard to hold in his food, lest he would regurgitate.

She only groaned, "Don't remind me!" She forced half a pancake into her mouth, swallowing it after only a few forced bites. "But I'm sure that low-life jerk ex boyfriend of mine had fun last night!"

She was interrupted when Vegeta gave a deep, mocking snort of laughter.

Bulma turned her glaring eyes onto him, pissed. "What? Find that so funny, huh?"

He ignored her, finally looking away and now focusing his eyes on the plate of food as he resumed eating, though an expanding grin was clear on his face.  
_  
Ha. I knew she'd forget. Dope._

Bunny delightfully piped up, "Bulma, you remember my friend Lufa, right? She came over during our New Year's party. She brought those wonderful croissants."

_Lufa? That name doesn't ring a bell... _Bulma thought, _Well, mom only has about a million friends... I can't be expected to memorize all of them._ "Uh, yeah. I remember," she politely lied. "What about her?"

"Well, yesterday evening, she told me her son Clauf heard about your breakup, and he would like to go on a date with you! Isn't that cute?"

"Mom! No! It's not _cute_!" Bulma felt an escalating nausea quickly rising in her gut, a mixture of nausea from the hangover and her irritation at this news. "Let me guess, the guy isn't planning on paying for the dinner, right? He thinks that because I'm rich, I'll be the only one bringing my check book, I'm assuming!"

Bunny tsked, "Bulma, I didn't raise you to be cynical."

Dr. Briefs interjected into the conversation, "Hm, coincidentally, two of my assistants have mentioned to me that they want to speak with you, Bulma. You know them, I think. Roab and Taul. They've been helping me with the newest capsule refrigerator model."

Bulma was far from interested. She retorted, "Yeah right, dad! Like I'd ever be interested in those losers! That'll be the day!"

"My, that's harsh!" said Bunny.

"Well, instead of sneaking around like wimps, why didn't they come to _me_ face-to-face and actually ask me out, instead of imposing themselves on you guys to do their dirty work? I don't date cowards!"

Dr. Briefs coughed, mumbling under his mustache, "Well... Perhaps it's because they're a bit afraid of you..."

Bulma vindictively glared at her father. "What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Well they have every right to be intimidated by me! I'm not some pushover! But if they're so afraid, why do they want to date me? Awfully suspicious, isn't it?" With a fork and knife in hand she viciously stabbed at a pancake, proceeding to tear it apart. "I'll tell you why. They want my money! The prospect of money is the one thing that would give them the courage to go out with me!" She crushed the shredded pancake bits under her fork, her appetite now lost. "That and they want to get a piece of my hot ass!"

Bunny suggested good-naturedly, "Why don't you just hang out and just try to get to know them, sweetie? Who knows, maybe you'll find some common interests." She sipped from her cup of iced sweet tea before setting it down on the table, a rare frown now settling on her lips. "I wish you would at least try to make some friends, Bulma. You know, as your mother, it pains me to see how lonesome you are."

Bulma rolled her eyes, explaining to her mother for the hundredth time, "I've told you before, I'm not lonely, mom. You know me. I can't really make friends, at least none who aren't interested in my trust fund. Besides, I like spending my time with machines over people."

Though she did feel a great loneliness every once in a while, a feeling of solitude that she was very good at covering up. After many past experiences in her youth, she'd had friends who used her as a tool to try to get her family's funds. After those experiences, Bulma kept her guard up, and her intuition about sneaky potential friends rarely failed her, though she'd come close to slipping up when the potential friend was an attractive guy. She did not want to get to know people who only wanted to use her to get money.

She always kept her loneliness to herself. After all, she had a lot to be happy about, so she shrugged her solitude off as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. And she didn't want to burden her parents into worrying about her lacking social life.

She piled the pancake bits into the center of her plate as she angrily bit out, "The only friends I have now are Goku and company, but they never pay me a visit! Always too busy! They could at least call to tell me what's up! Some friends they are. Who needs 'em?"

Their lack of keeping contact with her made her feel unappreciated and unneeded by them. Why hadn't they at the very least asked her to make some training equipment to help them prepare for the androids? No, they just went their separate ways, with a simple parting adieu of 'so long, see you in three years'.

In fact, the only one who sought her help was Vegeta, and Bulma was secretly very pleased and thankful for it, that her mechanical genius helped him. In this way she felt needed, and that made her happy.

Bunny brought her now empty cup to the sink, preparing to wash the dishes, and as if she read Bulma's mind, she said delightfully, "Well, I'm glad that you're getting along just swell with Vegeta!"

Bulma frowned, trying to hide her blush. "Mom..."

Dr. Briefs muttered, "Stockholm syndrome."

Bulma glared at him. "Wrong, dad. Maybe that would be the case for _you_, but I am _not_ held captive by the Prince of Jerks. I am not _afraid_ of him!" she shot a crippling look at Vegeta, challenging him to retort, but he was immersed in eating his food. He seemed to not even care that Bulma and her parents were talking about him.

Scowling back at her was one thing, but ignoring her? That annoyed Bulma tremendously.

Bunny hummed and began washing the dishes, the plates and bowls clanking loudly against each other, the blonde woman oblivious to her daughter's foul mood. Dr. Briefs got up from his chair, "Well now... I'd better get working on that capsule refrigerator..." He brought his dishes to the sink, but before leaving the room he said, "Oh, Bulma, have you seen my pills anywhere? I can't seem to find them."

Bulma almost choked on her coffee. She quickly glanced up at Vegeta, but he still wasn't looking her way.

"No, I haven't seen them. Why don't you try checking the guest bathroom or something?"

She knew exactly where the Viagra pills were. Buried under a growing pile of clothes in her closet.

"Hm. Right. I didn't think you'd know where they were." Her father raised an eyebrow at her, "Oh, and your shirt is inside out. And backwards. Too sleepy to notice?" He chuckled and left the room.

Bulma frowned and looked down at her shirt. Indeed, it was both backwards and inside out, the tag sticking out obtrusively.

_Too late to fix it now._.. She thought, and simply ripped the tag off. _I'll just have to rock the 'lazy, beautiful scientist' look today._

Bulma continued to eat her food and ignore her house guest when he approached the table. She still did not acknowledge him, until he slammed his palm down on the table top. Bulma very nearly choked on her coffee a second time.

"Hey. Girl-thing."

She glared up at him. "Girl-thing? Vegeta, you know by now my name is _Bulma_. You couldn't have forgotten that when you've said it three times already!"

"Alright, BULL-MUH. Be sure you tally that into your record," he made sure to add an appropriate mocking sneer as he over-enunciated the syllables of her name. "Are you that infatuated with me that you would need to count how many times I've spoken your name? I suppose I can't blame you, though. I _am_ the most superior being in this universe. Why _wouldn't_ you pine after me?"

"Yeah? Look who's talking! Weren't you the one who counted the number of times I've given you an innocent little kiss? Hm? Prince _Vegetable_."

"Which reminds me, I'm not about to forgive you for assaulting me yesterday, not unless you work your ass off on more upgrades. And you have no place to mock me with a name like Bull-muh. Unlike you, my name doesn't sound like bullsh-"

She quickly interceded with a sarcastic smirk, "Oh, stop kidding around, _Vee_."

"Right. How could I forget. We're 'getting along just swell', aren't we? Or so the lunatic blonde believes."

"Are you saying you accept my offer of friendship? About time." She smugly leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

"Never mind that." He leaned over the table, glaring into her blue eyes unwaveringly, "Now. Answer this," his firm, dark eyes bored holes into her own, never looking away, and he slowly spoke, "Do you remember what you told me last night?"

"Um... Last night?" She relaxed her position in the chair, slumping over slightly, and she could only blink in confusion. Sudden worry flooded over her. _Oh great, so I was drunk in his company. What did I do, make a fool out of myself?_

Vegeta had an inkling that she did not remember a thing of what had transpired the night before, judging from the confusion he noted on her face, so he decided to test if his assumption was correct. "10,000Gs. Does that ring a bell?"

"What? Are you talking about the Gravitron? Did I promise to upgrade it or something?" She was thoroughly confused, yet she quickly grew irritated, "You've gotta be kidding me. I just upgraded it by 50Gs yesterday, and now you want me to add several _thousand_? Man, you're never satisfied."

_I see. So she doesn't remember_. He continued to persistently interrogate her, "You eagerly told me you would upgrade it to withstand that amount. And in exchange you wanted something foolish from me. Can you remember what it was? Or have you forgotten even that due to your short attention span?"

Bulma bit her fingernail discontentedly. "You ought to know you can't believe everything I say when I'm drunk."

"Oh really? _How_ disappointing," he said sarcastically, chuckling at his secret joke.

Bulma caught on, knowing some sort of altercation had to have happened that night. "Tell me what I said!" she demanded.

Reassured that she did not remember the embarrassing encounter when she tried to solicit sex from him, Vegeta felt relief, and he only gave her a condescending grin, amused by the helpless position she was in. "No. You'll have to use your brain for once and remember it all on your own accord. Just as you would not tell me what I said to you the other night, when I had that damn concussion or whatever. An eye for an eye, right?" He boisterously laughed at her, which made her to go red in the face with frustration and anger.

"But I can never remember anything I do or say when I get that drunk! How am I supposed to know_?_!"

"Says the woman who prides herself on being a so-called genius," he taunted, "That's too bad, then. I guess you'll only have to make a speculation on what you said. And you can count on one thing, I am _not_ going to relieve your frustrations by telling you." Nor would he let her know he'd enjoyed tracing his fingers over her skin, or how he was resolved to claiming her as a concubine once the android problem was out of the way.

If what she said was true, that she was unable to recall her actions when she was wasted, he wondered what would happen if he was in the same room as her the next time she got drunk. He could get laid and she would forget. But he wasn't about to let that happen. He decided it would be safer to avoid her the next time he detected alcohol on her breath.

He leaned away from the table now, placing his hands on his hips and jeeringly staring down at Bulma. He snorted, "It seems when you're drunk, your repressed, uninhibited babblings on your carnal human desires are unleashed and taken out on anyone who happens to be in your company, despite knowing full well how your actions are certified to earn you some well deserved, self-imposed degradation."

He was dropping a pretty big hint for her, though cryptic and hidden cleverly behind his extensive vocabulary. If she took the bait, he could get an answer to how she felt about him, if she was just a foolish woman seeking a fling, or if she had more interest in the Saiyan.

Despite suffering the effects of the hangover, Bulma still had her sharp intuition about her and she caught on. She knew he was giving her a hint, but she wasn't about to fall for his trap. He was trying to get her to tell him about her deepest desires. She knew that if she was drunk while in his presence, she probably would have done or said some embarrassing kinky things to him, and perhaps now he wanted to find out if she was serious or just messing around. But she would not confirm his suspicions, not yet.

Nor did she want to push him away, either.

She pondered a bit, trying to appear nonchalant, before saying, "Hm... I must have told you that in exchange for that upgrade, you _have_ to be my friend, no matter what. Right?"

_Well. She caught on quickly. Impressive_. Vegeta snorted in response. He wasn't fooled. He knew she was beating around the bush. He knew she had to realize by now that she'd done something too frisky around him, something that definitely crossed the boundary of mere friendship, and now she was acting as if she was unphased.

But he didn't want to draw the subject out in the open just yet. He would allow her to regain her composure this time, let her come up with some tactics that she could confront him with later. After all, he was having a bit of fun testing his wit against her. This was a highly interesting game to him, and now the game was becoming much more intense, the stakes higher. He was always up for a challenge.

"Close enough," he said, dropping the discussion of her drunken debauchery. "But I know you can't get the Gravitron up to 10,000, so your proposition is invalid. However, if before the end of the year you can upgrade it to at the very least 1,000Gs, I'll consider it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Consider being my friend, right?"

As far as he was concerned, they were somewhat acquainted already. He did like being around her. As long as she didn't try to come on to him, that is. But it was easy to evade her advancements as long as he did not make himself vulnerable.

"Whatever. If you can do it, I guess I can spare_ some_ of my pride and let you hang around at my heels as my personal attendant." He chuckled and added as an afterthought, "Consider yourself privileged. When I become ruler of the universe, I might allow you to live." _And when I take over this planet, I have a particular job set in mind just for you. You'll do for a worthy courtesan. _

He was not certain if he would be too comfortable being her 'friend', but he was growing restless and impatient with his training. He wanted to ascend, and it wasn't happening. He needed much more. He didn't understand friendship all that well, to him it was more along the lines of self-imposed slavery to another. But if Bulma was really that willing to be his 'friend', his servant, could he deny her? And he wanted that upgrade... Perhaps 1,000Gs would be enough to help him reach his goal to become a Super Saiyan? For that he would begrudgingly accept her offer of friendship. It was fun to mess with her, anyway.

"Personal attendant, huh?" She rolled her eyes, _What a strange idea of friendship_... "Two months, 1,000Gs. Consider it done," she said confidently.

"I will expect nothing short of 1,000. Otherwise, you can forget it."

"But I'm also going to have to install some extra safety features as a precaution. Such as an automatic emergency override to the Gravitron and a monitoring system to keep tabs on your vital signs, so if it detects that your life readings fall low, the gravity will be shut off immediately."

She rubbed her chin with her thumb, considering what other additional safety features she would have to implement into the Gravitron's programming, and how the additional gravity would put Vegeta's life at risk. "1,000Gs is dangerous, potentially lethal even for a Saiyan. I don't want you getting squished. But if that's what you really want, I'll do it. And_ I'm_ getting rewarded by being your buddy." She laughed, "Oh, I mean, your 'personal attendant'."

"Safety features? Hah." He humphed, "I assure you that extra precautionary crap won't be necessary."

"Hey, that extra crap could very well save your life. Don't take my precautions for granted."

"Well then, get on it. You only have two months."

"Two months is plenty. Now, I'll just get started on whipping up some blueprints..." _But first things first, I have to throw out all the alcohol in the house... wouldn't want a repeat of last night and do any more embarrassing things in front of Vegeta! _she thought to herself grimly.

She imagined that if she got drunk again, she would probably give him a strip-tease show or something equally regrettable, like make an attempt to give him a lap dance. She recalled the last time she had gotten totally wasted, many years ago, during a celebration held at the island Kame house. She did not remember what had happened, but the next day Yamcha told her she got completely hammered and paraded around the room wearing only her underwear. Unfortunately, she had been in the company of Master Roshi and Oolong. After that disaster, the lecherous old man and pig had adamantly tried to steal her panties more fervently than ever before, and she had to dish out many beatings in response to the two perverts' motives.

_Yeah. I think it's about time I get sober, _she decided. She did not want a repeat of her bad behavior, especially around Vegeta.

She stood from her chair, "Spend these next two months preparing to accept my friendship, Vee." She raised her hand and ruffled his spiky hair teasingly.

Vegeta scowled at her and leaned away, not fond of having his hair ruffled, or being given such a degrading nickname. If she was going to be his 'friend', he would need to correct her on that.

Bulma smiled conspiringly and left the kitchen. "Two months and you'll be my friend, guaranteed, like it or not."

He snorted, watching her make her exit. "We'll see."

* * *

After the two had gone their separate ways, Vegeta headed outside to train in the GR, and Bulma made her way over to the pantry, a garbage bag in tow. She then proceeded to dig through cabinets and cupboards, throwing out all the alcoholic beverages she came across, with the exception of what belonged to her parents; pouring the contents of the many cans and bottles she found down the kitchen sink, dropping the empty containers into the garbage bag.

It would not be too difficult for her to give up alcohol. She was not dependent on it, not in the least. She never really drank a lot in the first place, because she feared too much alcohol would take its toll on her appearance, so she assumed it wouldn't be a major loss to give it up, save for special occasions.

She was surprised at seeing the varieties of alcohol that were hers in the pantry. A multitude of cans of beer of different sizes, alongside wine, sherry, and rum bottles... She'd always stocked-up on alcohol to save for later, but she didn't know it had accumulated to such an impressive collection. It was almost a shame that she was throwing it all out, because many of them looked expensive and delectable...

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the temptation. _No. I can't risk keeping all this booze... I've got to stop fooling around and getting intoxicated at my leisure. I have important things to do, and I don't intend on getting another hangover as bad as this..._

Her fingers closed around the neck of a large bottle in the farthest corner of the cabinet she had been prowling, and she pulled the bottle out. She read the label, and her heart instantly filled with greedy delight at the discovery.

It was a pricey strawberry vodka cocktail that she had been saving for a special occasion, but she had forgotten about it. It was a brand she was extremely fond of, as well as an extremely difficult variety to come by. And it was strawberry flavored.

She was pleasantly surprised by her find, but she hesitated, glancing at the garbage bag filled with cans and bottles. She knew it would be in her best interests to throw it out... but it was so tantalizing.

Finally, she reached a compromise. _Well... I guess it'll be okay if I keep this one... As long as I can resist the urge to guzzle it down. Yeah, I'm saving this one, definitely._ She promised she would have to reward herself with it later, after achieving a great accomplishment. Perhaps even after upgrading the Gravitron. Though when she would decide to drink it, she would have to lock herself away in her room to avoid any more potential inebriated encounters with her house guest.

After discarding the garbage bag in a recycling can in the yard, Bulma brought the vodka bottle up to her room. She then spared a few minutes to change into a fresh set of clothes, throwing on a pink bra and a blue t-shirt, before stowing the bottle away in her closet.

* * *

**A/N**- For the names mentioned: Lufa-loofah, Clauf-cloth, Roab-robe, Taul-towel. Bathing items this time. ;) And the capsule refrigerator model thing that Bulma's father is working on is kind of a little easter egg. I hope someone gets it


	12. Chapter 12

Sitting at her desk in the lab, her chin resting in one hand, Bulma mulled over a few blueprints that she had scribbled an assortment of elaborate formulas on. She was wondering just how she was going to manage the 1,000Gs upgrade.

It was not a matter of simply upping the gravity - she could do that, no sweat. It was just the challenge of fitting the additional components into a confined space in the Gravitron. _That_ was the hard part. She had to refine the components and reduce the size of every mechanical unit, and in such a short amount of time, and years of experience had taught her that it was a difficult task, even if she had two months to do it. And quality could not be compensated just to get everything to fit in place. Every component was necessary, every wire, circuit and port in each piece of equipment was important and unable to be substituted for size.

She had spent ten minutes reviewing some calculations in her head, but her train of thought began to head elsewhere.

_Hm. I haven't made a new friend in years... and Vegeta's cute and interesting, so that makes him the ideal candidate worthy of my friendship. And hell, maybe once I become his buddy, he'll be so happy that he'll stop obsessing about taking over the Earth!_ She almost laughed out loud at the thought, _And once we become friends, I wonder if he'll let me bring him along with me to see a movie, or run around in the mall or something._

She fell into a light daze as she imagined herself and the Saiyan Prince walking through the mall, her impatiently dragging him along by his hand, his temper escalating as he would snarl at people walking by and begin charging ki blasts at anyone he deemed threatening.

She snickered at the thought. _Nah, maybe that's not such a good idea. He'd probably get so cranky and embarrassed he'd just obliterate the mall._

Bulma lost her concentration completely now, distracted by thoughts of Vegeta, and in the corner of the blueprint she was working on she absentmindedly began to draw a caricatured doodle of him, wearing a tuxedo and dancing underneath a disco ball. She made sure to over-exaggerate the wideness of his forehead, his prominent widow's peak pointing down to his angry eyebrows.

She leaned back in her chair and snickered as she looked back at the little masterpiece she had just drawn, as she continued her pondering.

She'd never had to work so hard to be welcomed by a man before. But she was always up for facing a challenge and overcoming it. He was unaccommodating and hard to get along with... but then again, so was she. And she was certain that if anyone were to befriend Vegeta, it would be her, the beautiful, charismatic genius who was capable of accomplishing anything. And she prided herself on that notion.

And maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to persuade Vegeta against his desire for conquest and ruling over the Earth, and then perhaps all the Z Fighters would thank her for her glorious heroism for saving their planet. She smugly grinned thinking about it. Maybe then they would finally recognize her talents!

Above her doodle of Vegeta, she now drew a little speech bubble, and inside it she inattentively scrawled, 'I luv princess Bulmuh'.

No sooner had she written it did she then quickly scribbled the writing out, embarrassed by her childish antics, but she just laughed it off. _Yeah, right. _She sat up straight in her chair and cracked her knuckles with gusto, vigorously preparing to dive back into her project.

"Alright, back to work!"

* * *

Vegeta stomped his way through the Capsule Corp compound with deliberate loudness, heading for the lab. It had only been half an hour since he'd started his training, yet he had already decimated the training bots. Again.

He was somewhat irate. 550Gs was a little challenging, certainly, but if the training bots did not proficiently rise as a challenge as well, progress higher in dexterity along with the advancement of the gravity, they were not a hazard to him. He had already predicted the pattern of their movements and the attacks they threw at him, and it was nothing new. They were not demanding much of his ability to fight them off, and he needed to face a challenge in order to ascend. He could not effectively test his endurance against the obsolete training bots, and so he decided they needed to be upgraded as well.

He kicked the door to the lab open and stormed over to the blue-haired woman in the middle of the room. "Hey! Bratty human girl!"

She had been prepared for his interruption by ten seconds - she'd heard him stomping through the hallway, and a smile was already expanding on her lips.

She innocently looked up from her blueprints and immediately noticed that he was wearing his regular training shorts and tennis shoes, but this time he had paired them with a black tank top, his preventative way of stopping her from checking him out.

Though the addition of the tank top didn't make him look less attractive... it hugged his torso snugly, just barely falling above his hips, and his abs were visible through the fabric, flexing as he moved across the room toward her. It was not at all an unpleasant sight to her.

She took her eyes away from his abdomen as she glared at him, pretending to be angry. "That's a new one. Servant woman, girl-thing, slave, and now bratty human girl... Just how many nicknames do you have for me?"

"As many as I need to avoid having to say Bull-muh. It's such a disgustingly tacky name that I can feel vomit rising up my throat any time I have to say it."

"You are _so_ MEAN!" Bulma pouted at him and hunched over in her chair. "Your name isn't any better, you know! Veh-gee-tuh! Sounds like fajita. Blech."

Vegeta wasn't listening to her. Something had caught his eye, and he was looking down at the blueprints laid across the lab table.

Noticing what his eyes were attentively focused on, Bulma quickly scooped the blueprints up in her arms and shoved them into a drawer, in the hopes that Vegeta had not seen the doodle she made.

Luckily for her, he hadn't seen the drawing. He had been momentarily engrossed in the baffling and intricate formulas scribbled out on the blueprints. And he was impressed. It all looked incredibly confusing to him. How could this woman understand those enigmatic equations? He knew he would never be able to wrap his head around something like that... not that he was not mentally capable, but he had no patience for that sort of thing, working with pen and paper, going over mistakes multiple times and reviewing those befuddling arithmetics. It was astounding to him that Bulma had such ingenuity and canniness to accomplish the task.

"Is there something you needed from me?" she asked him.

He snorted, remembering why he had bothered coming into the lab in the first place. "Those training robots have broken again. I was going to tell the wheezing old man to deal with them, but I can't find him. The bastard must be evading me. He'll pay for that."

"Naw, dad's not avoiding you as a personal vendetta. He's probably just at another business meeting or something. He's been busy a lot lately, so he can't fix the bots for you. So, let me guess..." she leaned back in her chair, the palms of her hands facing outward as she intertwined her fingers, cracking her knuckles again, "You want little ol' _me_ to do all that hard work instead?"

He smirked cruelly. That was undeniably a 'yes'.

Bulma sighed and rolled her eyes, focusing them on the ceiling as she tried to level her slightly building agitation. "Jeez... You're expecting me to upgrade the Gravitron _and _your training bots? And on top of that huge workload, I have to install more safety features to the GR." She looked back at him confrontationally, "You're testing my multitasking abilities, aren't you?"

"Are you capable of doing a better job than your lousy father?" He glowered, "Can you correct the numerous mistakes of those immensely flawed robots, so the next time I repeatedly pound my fist into them, they will not fall apart like common flea-market appliances?"

"Hm. Well, I guess I'll have to input a higher A.I. into their programming," she mused, and then appropriately sneered at the prince, "Who d'ya think you're dealing with here? Of _course_ I can do a better job than dad! I'm a prodigy, I've surpassed him in brilliance long ago. You're looking at the next Einstein here, pal!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, studying her curiously. _Another thing this odd woman has in common with me... I too had surpassed my father. _Her worthiness and merit to him seemed to be growing more and more by the minute, rising far above the rank of being merely a servant to him.

Bulma then asked him, "Where are the training bots, anyhow? Didn't you bring them inside with you for me to take a look at?"

"Littering the floor of the Gravity Room, in far too many pieces for me to carry." He was obviously proud of himself, regally holding his head high with a heinous smirk crossing his lips.

"Do you have to completely wreak _everything?_"She groaned, "You know, it took my dad a lot of hard work and effort to make those, not to mention the many times he's had to repair them for you!"

She stopped her yelling and looked at Vegeta's hand suddenly, her eyes widening as she took sight of the damage. "Oh, shit. You poor guy, look at your hand!"

It looked as if the skin surrounding his knuckles had been torn off, clinging by a few shreds, blood running down his fingertips and entombing itself underneath his fingernails. A few drops of blood collectively fell to the tiles of the lab floor as he lifted his hand by a few inches and examined it.

Vegeta shrugged it off like it was nothing, in fact, he had forgotten about the wound. "Don't concern yourself over it. And above that, don't you _dare_ pity me." He was not at all partial to being called 'you poor guy'. It actually made him feel sick. Sympathy was something he would never welcome with open arms.

Several feet away, the phone in the lab began to ring.

After it rang for a second time, Bulma narrowed her eyes, momentarily forgetting her concern for the wounded Saiyan as she got up from her seat and headed toward the phone. "That better not be another loser calling for me! This phone is meant for _work_ purposes! I thought this number was private!" She was clearly enraged.

Vegeta watched her as she snatched the phone up, and she quickly began shouting through the speaker, "If you're some creepy jerk wanting to ask me out on a date, you can forget it! Don't waste my time, because the answer is going to be NO!"

As she listened to the frightened and stuttering voice on the other line, her expression softened a little. "Oh. Hey Krillin."

She listened to him for less than thirty seconds before her tone became hostile again. "Yamcha told you _what?_!"

Vegeta's ears could pick out a high-pitched whimper through the other line. Krillin was clearly afraid for his life at having to speak with Bulma.

She viciously hissed into the phone, "No, tell that coward that if he has something to say to me, he'll have to get his butt over here and say it to my _face_, not relay his message through you!"

Vegeta scowled bitterly. She was talking about the weakling again, and she was getting upset over it. Why was she wasting her time? She was in the middle of working on the blueprints for his upgrade! She should not be thinking about that worthless human!

"I don't care if he's sorry!" She turned her back on Vegeta as she now very nearly screamed through the phone, "I can't take him back after what he did! You know that, Krillin!"

It did not fall from Vegeta's notice that Bulma had turned her back on him. She was _ignoring_ him now, just to talk about Yamcha over the phone. That was unacceptable, and it infuriated the prince.

Growling, he strode over to her. "Woman."

"Oh riiiiight." Bulma did not hear him, continuing her phone rant, "I've known him for more than ten years. He's making up excuses."

Vegeta's voice was laced with malignity at this point, "Woman!"

Bulma glared at Vegeta over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him, then she turned her back on him once more and moved away a bit defiantly. Her voice blared through the speaker, "No, that was Vegeta. He wants food or something. Anyway, tell Yamcha to-"

Outrageous. He did not want _food_, now right now, at least! He wanted his upgrades!

His patience was dangerously lacking now. He closed the distance between himself and Bulma with one quick stride and savagely ground out, "Hey _Bulshit._ Stop this childish charade of yours and turn around to face me _at once!_"

She did not turn her head this time, but it was clear that the new nickname he had dubbed her - 'Bulshit' - had offended her. With her back to him still, she only lifted her free arm up over her shoulder and gave him the middle finger.

At this obscene gesture of hers, Vegeta snapped. "You insolent servant! That is_ it!_"

He quickly lifted his uninjured hand. He only meant to lightly touch her arm with his fingertips, for he knew that even by just lightly touching her, she would be surprised, maybe even cause her to be _pleasantly _surprised, and she would have to turn around to confront him and jeeringly make a few nasty remarks.

But she shifted slightly, her arm swinging out to the side, out of the way, and she turned her body just a little bit.

But that was all it took. Instead, his fingers landed on a plump, fleshy mound.

His hand had found its way onto her breast.

Within a fraction of a second, immediately at the forefront of his mind came the memory of what Bulma had told him the day she had invited him to stay at her house. _Don't do anything naughty to me! I know I'm hard to resist! _Her warning had stuck with him ever since that day, despite how, back then, he thought of her as nothing more than a tremendously annoying woman and he had no respect for the boundaries she set. But that day, because of her bold, audacious statement, he had vowed to never touch her, at least definitely not in an inappropriate way.

And now, here he was, standing behind her like some sexual fiend, _groping_ her breast.

Time seemed to freeze as a few seconds crawled by agonizingly. Bulma had stopped talking. The phone slipped through her fingers, clattering to the floor.

Eventually she turned her head slowly until she faced him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She managed to choke out, "V-Vegeta... You didn-"

She glanced back at the fingers frozen on her breast. Yeah, that was _definitely_ his hand there, no doubt about it. This was not a dream, nor was she simply fantasizing.

Through the phone on the floor, Krillin's nasally tenor could be heard shouting over the other line, "Hey, what's wrong? Did Vegeta do something?" His voice cracked up a few pitches higher as he nervously bellowed, "I told you we couldn't trust him!"

Vegeta drew his hand away immediately, but he couldn't move otherwise. He was not even looking at Bulma. He couldn't. He was staring down at his hands in revulsion and horror, dreadfully glaring at his slightly quivering fingers in disbelief at his own actions, at the atrocious offense he had just committed, his lack of control both nauseating and alarming him.

He was expecting to receive a verbal beating to his ears, Bulma screaming at him like an angry hornet, rattled into a fury in response to his lewdness.

By the look on his face, she could not tell if he was disgusted by his own actions, or if he was sickened that he had touched her body. He stared at his fingers as if they were hideous and grotesque, as if they were covered in a foul, reeking stench at having touched something enormously revolting.

Feeling lightly insulted, without taking her eyes off him, Bulma stooped down to the floor and picked the phone up.

Vegeta snapped out of his bewildered trance and took advantage of Bulma's momentary occupation with the telephone, using the opportunity to quickly stalk out of the lab, desperately wiping his hands across his shirt as if they had been in toilet water or something equally disgusting, and in an alien tongue he began shouting foreign curses as he stormed out.

"Hey! Wait a minute! I'm not done with you!" Bulma roared after him, but to no avail. She sighed exasperatedly, "You're just going to touch my boob and expect to walk away_?_!"

But he was already gone.

"Huh? Vegeta crushed some noobs in a game?" Came Krillin's voice through the receiver.

Bulma groaned and brought the phone up to her face quickly. "Never mind, I'll call you back." She hung up on him, not intending to call Krillin back anytime soon, and she quickly bounded out of the lab.

"Vegeta! Where are you hiding?" She trudged through the house, searching every room for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

She made her way into the kitchen and stopped, placing her hands on her hips. She sneered up at the ceiling, pissed, and she yelled, "Get out here _this instant!_ Come on! Man up and face my wrath! Don't be like that coward Yamcha!"

That was the only necessary incentive to draw him out of hiding. Like Bulma had demanded, in an instant he appeared from out of nowhere, phasing right in her face with inhuman speed.

A coward he was not, and he hated that she had compared him to Yamcha, reason enough to enrage him. But he was somewhat unprepared for this battle. He'd done something detestable and unforgivable by touching her. Certainly she would accuse him of lusting after her body, and she would lose her trust in him now, forever suspicious of his intentions with her.

Bulma leaned down slightly and quickly tried to catch her breath, as if she'd just sprinted a mile. She flipped her bangs out of her face, peering up at Vegeta's eyes, but not before she took another peek at his abs.

"Okay... You... What was that ab-"

"You should stop inhaling all that smoke from those poisonous cigarette things, woman. Look at the strain it has put on your weak human lungs, rendering you unable to berate me with your shrill voice. Pathetic." He observed her with indifference, trying to seem calm, although there was a storm raging inside him now. And Bulma was now suddenly out of breath and panting... Oddly, he found that her exasperated breathing pattern was only intriguing him more. In fact, it was beginning to turn him on, and now was definitely _not_ the time to become aroused and getting worked into a lust-driven frenzy. He had to struggle immensely to stay composed.

"Don't change the subject!" Bulma brazenly accused. "_Now_..." she unconsciously took a step back as she glared at him, taking the sight of him in completely, her arms folded defensively across her chest, "Just _what _was that about? I didn't take you for a pervert."

"I am _not_ a..." He covered his face with a hand, grumbling more foreign curses. Uncertain how to best approach the subject, he chose to play the incident off like it was nothing to him, when really he was astounded by his own audacity. "Look, idiot. It was unintentional. Nothing more. I would never purposely touch _you_ in such a way! Engrave that into your thick skull and get over it!"

"An accident? _Really?_" Bulma huffed, "Are you saying my boobs aren't good enough for you? Undesirable?" She unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips, arching her back to accentuate her bust, almost daring him to touch her there again.

Vegeta tried very hard to avoid looking at her perfect chest, fearlessly staring directly into her eyes as he spitefully muttered, "What the hell are you going on about now? What makes you think _anyone, _even the lowest, foulest life forms in the universe, would intentionally touch your unflattering and _disgusting_ body?"

That was obviously a lie. Her figure was quite fetching and was making him randy. No, she was not simply fetching, she was _unbearably_ desirable, almost to the extent of making him weak; as she had said, she was indeed _dead sexy_. Just the act of _looking_ at her was a potent aphrodisiac.

He was actually completely baffled by Bulma's allegation, rendering him befuddled._ I thought she was angry that I touched her, and now she seems insulted because I said it was an accident? What the hell is this idiot thinking?_

Bulma suddenly dropped her anger, and she nudged one of his upper arms with her elbow, a highly amused grin on her lips. "C'mon, you can be honest with me. That was no accident. You _liked_ it, didn't you?" She winked playfully, her dainty blue eyelashes brushing her cheek, "It's okay, you can tell me."

If Vegeta had been bewildered just a few seconds ago, he was completely dumbfounded now at her behavior. He shot back, "Woman, you utterly disgust me. Now are you done bitching at me, or can I leave, free from the risk of you stalking me to the ends of the Earth with your slandering voice?"

She ignored his discomfort and flirtatiously said, "If you like me, maybe we can work something out. We could go on a date or something. You don't need to sneak a touch of my body if you desire it so much. Just ask."

She was not entirely serious. But if he really did want to feel her up, she would not be too opposed to it... She favored him. And he was cute to boot.

Her outlandish proposition utterly perplexed him. Was it that easy? Did she let anyone touch her as long as they asked? No, that couldn't be the case. She hadn't express eagerness around any of her suitors. She hadn't even wanted to talk to them. What an utterly confusing woman she was!

He bit out, "Don't you feel _any_ shame? I can't believe you humans can be so degrading and self-depreciating! Do you always offer to let any man touch you in such a way?"

She smiled slyly, "No. Just you."

Was she saying she would only offer herself up to him? Preposterous... but it _was_ definitely flattering. And he was the Prince of Saiyans, of course he deserved her exclusive attention.

He smirked grandly, "Hah. That _should _be the case, readily offering up your body to me like a proper servant, although I refuse to lay my hands on something so disgusting. But coming from an unchaste creature like you, I can't believe that claim." She was such a desirous woman who seemed to be very interested in sex... It would not surprise him if she went around boldly hitting on dangerous men all the time. But he would not be opposed to the idea of her giving herself up to only him, making him the one exception to fondling her.

Bulma frowned at his accusal. "Why not? You're my friend. And I'll only let _you_ sneak a touch..."

"Idiot. Did you forget? I told you, two months."

"Pardon?"

"Two months, and you _might_ be able to make that claim of giving yourself up as a loyal follower of mine."

"_Friend_," she corrected.

"As I was saying, _if_ you get that upgrade done, I may consider allowing you to lay your claim to that position. I advise you resume your work now." He jerked his head impatiently, motioning it in the direction of the lab.

She snorted, "Like I said, it is absolutely guaranteed that I'll be able to do it. You may as well consider yourself to be my friend right now."

"And you are positive you want to be acquainted with me? I am a killer, I might just murder you for my amusement." He smiled extra wickedly.

She was not at all intimidated by his statement. "That was a past occupation. You're not a killer. I'm not in any imminent danger around you."

Vegeta sneered, "And you know this for certain? That I will no longer take the lives of others?"

"Well, yeah-"

"Do you remember that inferior human from yesterday?"

She gasped, shocked by his implication. "You didn't!"

He laughed, amused that he got such a reaction out of her. "Not yet. But for interrupting me, he merits a death sentence. If that piece of trash crosses my path again, I _will_ kill him. And you will not deter me from carrying out his execution."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "And you'll pile his corpse onto my bed, right? As a present for me? Gift-wrapped human cadaver?"

"Hm. Well. It seems you've grown accustomed to that practice by now. For that I'll throw in a bonus and add your neighbors' corpses as an extra perk."

"So you're not opposed to killing humans?" she frowned. She did not like that.

He was surprised. He thought she would be accepting of that permanent character flaw of his, since she had already accepted him, despite what he was and the mortifying history he had. But she did not approve of any future killings. Why not? Humans were foolish and plentiful - surely she did not like many of her fellow Earthlings, since they were much less intelligent and even more annoying compared to her?

But Vegeta could not help it much. Though he no longer felt a desire to kill weaklings, he would not stop himself from destroying any irritating humans who got in the way and challenged his authority. As far as he was concerned, these humans belonged to him, anyway. Their fate rested in his hands, and he had been doing them a favor by allowing them to live this long. And if he was to rule over this planet someday, he would have to deal with the Earth's military force. That would mean an entire army of humans would have to be wiped out. How would Bulma respond to that inevitable enactment?

Assertively he vouched, "I've decimated entire civilizations, wiped out countless populations from existence, and I have ruthlessly killed women and children without experiencing even the slightest bit of remorse. And when the time comes, I will force every human on this planet to pledge their loyalty to me and bend themselves into servitude, and I will expect you and your fellow Earthlings to obey me and treat me as royalty. So why aren't you afraid of me? If I wanted to, I could easily obliterate this planet and eliminate your species."

Bulma grinned, seeing through the front he was putting up. "I'm sure you could. But you just said _IF_ you wanted to."

Her words hung densely in the air, and slowly Vegeta realized his tremendous slip of the tongue.

It was true, he didn't particularly care enough to actively seek-out and kill humans, he avoided it, actually, and so far he had not killed anyone since he had come to live on the Earth. He was not planning to do so unless they annoyed him or disobeyed him, but otherwise he rather favored to not waste energy crushing insects. If anything, he did want to take over their planet and rule over the humans like a king, as he was destined to.

And on this planet, it would be very easy for him to live and thrive among them, because he _looked_ human - Humans and Saiyans looked alike, the similarities very striking, and apparently both species had gone through an almost identical evolutionary process and had a matching biological makeup. Both their species were of a simian nature, having evolved from primates, making them reproductively compatible; that fact evident by Goku's success at breeding with an Earth woman, resulting in the birth of their powerful hybrid half-breed son, Gohan.

And it was appropriate that their races looked alike. Vegeta would not feel completely out of place if he chose to stay here and rule the planet. It would not be difficult for him to mingle among these Earthlings. Not that he wanted to waste his time among his subjects, but it would seem natural to fit in, just as Goku had managed to. It would not be too uncomfortable.

Additionally, Bulma was very useful to him. He needed to keep her in his company so she could continue to make training equipment for him. She was amusing, too, and, though he hated to admit it, she actually made him feel better. He needed that more than he realized.

And in the future, perhaps she could serve to satisfy his more carnal desires... he was certain that she could be an excellent concubine. Simply being in the same room with her was enough to arouse him, and he could only imagine how mind-blowing the sex could be.

Vegeta snorted, deciding to heckle her further to throw off any of her suspicions on his resolve. "Your naivety is astounding. You may think you're my 'friend', but this is a matter of convenience to me." That was the truth... mostly. He felt she at least deserved a fair warning in advance, just to know how much of a cold and unsociable bastard he was.

Bulma scowled. "So I'm just a convenience to you, huh?"

_Too bad at this point you're intrusively crossing the line of becoming more than that..._ He only grunted in response, trying to rid himself of such an uncomfortable thought of his growing desire and admiration for her. "I don't understand what you mean by 'friend', at least by your absurd human standards. Enlighten me, what exactly is involved in the practice of your human friendship?"

_Hm. He seems a little interested, at least. That's a good start._ She smiled and answered, "Well, it means we enjoy each others' company, and talk about our interests... discuss basic things, such as what movies we like, maybe debate about topics we disagree on... go out to eat together, hang out at the mall or something..."

He frowned, not the least bit interested in engaging in such activities. "You do have a talent for knowing just how to waste my time."

"It's not a _waste_. Not as long as we enjoy it."

He was sure he would much more willingly enjoy doing _other_ things with her... in his _bed._

Holding his vomit in, he said levelly, "And there is no intercourse involved in friendship?"

"What? Of _course_ not!" Bulma was surprised that he had blatantly asked such a thing.

"Good." He was relieved. He recalled the night before, when she had tried to come on to him. He didn't know if that sort of behavior constituted as normal among human friends. He did not want an encounter like that to repeat habitually. Not in the near future, at least.

"Ordinary friends don't do that sort of stuff," Bulma went on explaining, but she lowered her eyelids, teasingly adding, "Unless... you want it."

He remained silent, but his mouth formed a disgusted frown.

Bulma pretended to ponder a bit, "Hm. That would probably put our status not as 'friends', but it will make us 'friends with benefits'... Or, maybe if we like each other more than that... lovers, in a relationship"

Vegeta grimaced. "I will form no such relationship with a slave."

"Huh. Well, don't blame me if you start to develop feelings for me, and fall in love with me! Oh, but then again, it _will_ be all my fault... because I'm so irresistible."

"Don't make me laugh." He sneered, "Love? Repulsive. Just what are the symptoms of that debilitating disease?"

"Hey! It's not a disease! It's romantic and pleasant!" She clasped her hands together with slightly over-dramatic flamboyance, "Love is one of the best things that can happen to you! You can't stop thinking about the object of your affections... all day long..." she sighed.

Vegeta gave a barking laugh, "Unable to stop thinking about someone? Sounds unpleasant, almost like an ailment, or a degenerative mental disability."

His remark was ignored by Bulma as she went on preaching, "And you feel butterflies in your stomach in response to their presence... and your heart skips... and your body feels like it's burning up-"

"Impressive, it goes even beyond a mental illness. Now it sounds as if it has the symptoms of an affliction to the entire body. Are you sure it's not some form of a viral infection that simultaneously targets the brain and the stomach?"

She glared at him, "No, I'm being serious. It's not any kind of ailment. It can't be, because it feels _good_."

"If you are a masochist, yes."

"It's not painful!" She retorted, but she sighed, "Well... except heartbreak. It happens a lot."

He smirked evilly, "And you had the symptoms of this sickness for your scar-faced man?"

Though he hated to discuss anything about Yamcha, he liked to taunt Bulma... and he was just slightly curious of the practices of this human disease called 'love'. He wanted to know just how much Bulma had loved her weak man, because she was apparently upset about their split, still. She seemed to miss him.

And Vegeta wanted to know just how _much_ she missed him, to know how much she was hurting over it... so he could put a stop to her pathetic whimpering by mocking her, making her see how foolish she seemed, crying over the spouse who had given her up.

"I guess I sort of did..." she mused deeply, before adding, "Actually, now that you mention it... I don't really know anymore. But some feelings never go away. Mind you, when some time passes and I stop hating him, I could probably get along with him as a_ friend_, but-"

He interrupted her, "The same as me? No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I will not be lumped into the same category as that low-life. If you are daftly going to consider me to be some sort of a companion of yours, I don't want any negative connotation or association to that weakling, even if it is just by a word."

Bulma retorted against his claim, "Oh? Are you expecting to get some special treatment or something?"

"I expect to receive special treatment regardless of where you stand. You are obligated to serve me. I am the Prince of Saiyans, and I expect to be treated as such."

She challenged him, "Well then, unless you're willing to be _more_ than friends-"

He shot her an aghast expression.

"-you are just going to have to get used to being called my friend. You _and_ Yamcha both. Though I would not be surprised if the two of you become rivals for my affection."

"You're only flattering yourself," he derided. _And no matter what, that weakling could never rival me_, he smirked._ I outclass him in every aspect. _

Hell, he was even certain that he would probably make for a better friend.

Bulma shrugged, "Hey, it's bound to happen. Two guys who are friends with an incredibly good-looking and spectacular girl like me... Some feelings are likely to come to the surface."

"Are you certain this human 'love' thing is not a temporary illness?" He asked, "You are absolutely sure it is not some sort of uncontrolled disease spreading rampantly among your species?"

She laughed. His confusion was very amusing to her. "If it was, our planet would be under a major epidemic. No, love is natural. It happens to us all, and it's been happening for centuries." She pondered a bit, before she added, "You may consider it to be an outbreak, but if it is, it's a damn good one, and I am glad I have been afflicted by it."

"By the sound of it, I'd say you still have the affliction for the weakling." He laughed back at her, "You're pathetic, you humans are just miserable for overlooking the flaws of your couplings. No wonder you are all so weak!"

He did not want to mention that he was definitely opposed to Bulma wasting her time even thinking about Yamcha, because it would further postpone how long it would take for her to work on the upgrades. He did not like that human getting in his way. But by bringing up Yamcha in a mocking way, he was hoping she would realize just how ludicrous it was to continue feeling bitter about their breakup.

"I've known him for over ten years. It's not something that's easy to get over at the snap of my fingers!" She almost wished that was possible, and she pouted at the thought. "No, I don't_ love_ him. I can't, not after what he did. However... I _am_ thankful for the experience."

She was stretching it a bit. She wasn't actually sure if she had been in love with Yamcha... but she wanted to feel that she had the experience of love at least once in her life and hadn't missed out. There was a good chance that she had less than three years left to live, after all...

Vegeta snorted, not impressed by her little speech, while he made an internal remark, _That's not the opinion you had last night..._

Bulma prompted, "Let me put it in a way you'll understand. It's like how you guys fight in your battles. You win some and you lose some, but from your losses you gain experience and knowledge that you can use when you're up against your next opponent. Love is the same way."

"So from what you're suggesting, as part of this 'romance', you humans beat each other to within an inch of your lives?" He chuckled. He knew she was only making an allusion, but this 'love' thing sounded more interesting if fighting was involved.

"You know what I mean. I was speaking metaphorically, there is no physical beating involved. Well, unless you count what happens in the _bedroom_..." She smirked, "_Beating_ off..."

He snarled, "I have heard more than enough on that repulsive topic! Does every one of your conversations have to turn into a vulgar subject?"

"Depends on the situation. But look who's talking! You said in front of my parents that I would rather enjoy working on the Gravity Room instead of being in my bed with Yamcha. That was uncalled for, especially for _you_, the jerk who prides himself at being above human vulgarity!"

"Like you said. It depends on the situation. And in that situation I needed some amusement, and I received it at seeing the horrified expressions on your parents' faces."

"Don't joke like that at my expense!" She retorted, "Although, I have to admit that you were right. Working on those upgrades was a lot more fun than sleeping with him ever was."

"I'm sure."

"He was a tremendous disappointment in the sack. He literally didn't measure up to my expectations. His package was _so_ unimpressive."

Vegeta glowered, though he smugly thought, _Not only did the weakling fail miserably on the battlefield, but he failed at satisfying his woman. AND his paltry anatomy did not impress her! Hah! This just keeps getting more amusing to me!_

Bulma went on, "I'm sure Yamcha could please any ordinary dumb girl in bed, but obviously I'm _not_ any ordinary girl! I have high standards. I expect a lot out of sex." She grew angry now, "He always got it over with quickly, and most of the time I would have to be the one on top, because he was so lazy! It sucked, being the only one putting in effort and working up a sweat, and even though I was in charge and called the shots, it still didn't satisfy me!"

Vegeta looked ill, like he was struggling to hold his vomit in.

"And not once did he ever offer to go down on me! Selfish pig! And I don't think I've ever experienced an orgasm with-"

"Enough! Stop talking immediately!" He covered his ears with both hands, "I don't intend to hear of every vivid detail concerning your sickening mating rituals involving him!"

"Not with him, but maybe you and me..."

He lowered his hands from his ears, frowning, "What was that?"

"Nothing." She smiled sweetly, but then she noticed the blood on his hand, remembering that he had a wound that needed tending to. "Oh, we have to do something about that cut..." She took his hand in hers, examining his scraped-up knuckles. "Ew, what a nasty injury... What did you do, purposely slam your fist against the wall over and over again like an angry child?"

"This was the fault of those defective training bots that _you_ need to upgrade."

"Right, right..." She released her grip on him and turned, walking a few feet away from him. "C'mon, let's get this wound taken care of, so you won't die of blood loss. That would put a permanent hold on your training," she morbidly joked. "Let's go. Up to the infirmary."

She walked several more feet, then she stopped when she could tell that he wasn't following. She turned to look at him.

He was just staring at her, scowling, yet a slightly perplexed look was on his face.

"Well?" She frowned, mirroring his scowl with one of her own, "Are you coming or not? The sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner you can get back to training, and I can get to work on improving the 'defective' training bots!"

He glared darkly at her, but he turned his head to the side, looking away. "Tch. Alright, _fine_." He followed after her, and the two made their way out of the room and headed up the stairs.

He had been thinking to himself while he was staring at her. He had been horrified about what she had said on the concept of love. He thought of her very often, not all day long, and not enough for him to consider it a symptom of the beginning of a romance, but it was too close for comfort. Maybe these feelings and thoughts he had of her were just the beginnings of a potential fondness for her, progressing by infant steps? It bothered him immensely.

Sure, he was nimbly making his conversations with her to lack personalization, making sure to give her degrading titles like 'servant' and 'slave', but it was not easy to deter her with words alone. She was so commanding and intimidating, she could see through his act, and he didn't know how long he could stay toe-to-toe with her assertive demeanor.

And he actually felt much too at ease around her, though it was nice that he could relax for once and let his guard down around someone. She did not have ill intentions, and he did not really worry that she would exploit him. Although she did flirt a little too much.

He truly did not understand love. It was rarely seen throughout the cold universe he had grown up in. He had heard of love before, but only rarely, and it was considered to be a ridiculous, childish fantasy woven for the amusement of children. Love was like a fairytale. It just didn't happen. It wasn't a realistic possibility, especially when you lived the life of a servant to Frieza.

But if this 'love' thing wasn't an illness... then he would not be able to overcome it if he was afflicted with it. He was plummeting headfirst into the unknown, lacking in self-control, and that terrified him.

What an odd situation he'd found himself in. He did sort of favor this human, definitely above anyone else in existence, aside from himself, of course. But he could not allow himself to feel any attachment to her. That was out of the question.

But, like he was facing a tough opponent, he would rise to meet this challenge and overcome it.

As they entered the infirmary, Bulma was thinking deeply as well. She was conspiring a plan.

_Even if it was an accident, I'm not letting Vegeta get off the hook that easily for grabbing my boob!_ She smiled as she easily reached a decision, _I'll just have to pay him back with a little groping of my own!_


	13. Chapter 13

Having commanded him to sit down on the bed in the infirmary, Bulma sat at the edge of a very uncomfortable three legged stool as she scrutinized the damage. She looked over every fresh injury on Vegeta's body, her eyes not missing even a scratch, as she mentally assessed how many bandage rolls she'd have to use. Despite a few barely noticeable bruises and cuts here and there along his forearms, there was no major damage, save for his severely mangled-up hand. The bleeding had just barely stopped, and a few layers of skin had been peeled off, revealing the fleshy tissue underneath. A few shredded strips of skin were clinging to his hand, coated with thickened blood.

She was impressed by Vegeta's tolerance to pain. Judging from the amount of bloodshed, his injury had to hurt considerably. But he seemed unaffected by the pain, making no complaints as she looked his hand over and felt for any torn tendons or ligaments. But though it seemed the wound didn't bother him, Bulma knew it had to hurt baldy enough, because he had willingly followed her into the infirmary without putting up a fight or giving any resistance. Either it hurt that bad, or he knew the wound was severely torn-up enough that it would interfere with his training, and he needed it to be patched up immediately.

Bulma chided him, "I don't know how you could maintain your composure despite that wound. It must hurt like hell. I know _I'd _be crying my eyes out if it were me."

Vegeta snorted, unphased by the damage. "To a foolish human this level of damage would seem impressive. I have sustained far worse than this. This is nothing but a minor scratch to me."

She didn't doubt that. He had endured broken, crushed, and fractured bones, massive internal bleeding, ruptured organs, countless blisters and burns... The scars on his body more than backed up his claim on his incredible pain tolerance. Every inch of his body was covered in scars, some tiny and shallow, others wide and marbled, protruding from the surrounding flesh; a constant reminder of the battles he had fought, and the enemies who had left their marks permanently embedded into his skin, as if they had tagged their names into his flesh, offensively vandalizing his body.

Gradually, Bulma felt pangs of sympathy flood through her. He'd gone through a lot of pain, and his many scars told a tale of a throneless prince, alone in the universe, without a place to call home. All he could do to pass the time was through fighting endless battles, hopelessly trapped under Frieza's boot.

And he didn't have the luxury of using Senzu beans. His wounds always had to heal with nothing but time as his aid, slowly and agonizingly crawling by for weeks, even months at a time, until the injuries healed on their own.

Feeling empathetic now, Bulma despondently got up from her seat and fetched a bandage roll from the cabinet.

Vegeta watched her warily. "If you even consider sticking another one of those hideous pink cat bandages on me, I will massacre every human in this city. That will tally up the amount of human corpses you'll find piled in your room to at least a few thousand."

"Though I'd love to force you to get acquainted with Hello Kitty, unfortunately, I can't give you another one of her band-aids. They've all mysteriously disappeared," she replied, disheartened. She would have loved to stick ten of them on Vegeta, probably on his back where he would not notice them immediately. She knew he must have had something to do with the disappearance of those band-aids, since giving him only one had been enough to set him into a rage.

Her suspicion happened to be correct. Vegeta secretly praised himself for the trouble he had gone through by preemptively finding the bandages and disintegrating every single one with a ki blast. But despite that precautionary step he had taken in order to avoid being subjected to the unsightly Hello Kitty beast, he knew he could never be too careful. Who knew how many Hello Kitty bandages Bulma kept in her reserve? She was a clever woman, with an arsenal of surprises and clever comebacks up her sleeve, always leaving him in awe. He found that he had to consistently remind himself to not let his guard down around her, lest she would find a way to entice him into giving her sex. That was how much he was beginning to favor her, enough to consider bringing her into his bed without hesitation.

But while he certainly did desire her, he was determined to not claim her anytime soon. He had the androids to contend with, then Goku, then anyone else who challenged his authority. Only after taking care of those insects could he relax and allow her to be his personal courtesan.

Bulma dabbed at his wound with a damp washcloth, and she asked him, "So, what did you think about the dinner I made for you last night? Very pleasing to the palate, and better than my mom's cooking, I'm sure."

He snorted and glared down at his torn-up hand, watching his blood being absorbed into the washcloth. "Not enough meat," he muttered.

"Oh, you like meat, huh?" Bulma chuckled, "I'm not surprised, especially since you show an interest in eating humans."

"I have lost interest in devouring any _disgusting_ and disease-ridden humans I kill," he growled. Before she could intercede with another comment about oral sex, he added, "Rest assured, I will never _figuratively_ 'eat' a human, either!"

Bulma finished cleaning the blood from his hand, and she began to administer antibiotics to the wound, while she coarsely jabbed, "You may come to make an exception concerning me. I am sure I taste-"

He wrenched his arm free from her grasp, sneering at her, "If you want to continue tending to my injury, you will stop talking at once."

"Oh _boo hoo_, crybaby. You're the one who brought it up! And _you're_ the one who needs me to fix your wound so you can continue your training!"

"You should feel honored that you have been given the privilege of mending my wounds. And don't forget that you _need _me to heal, so _I_ can fight those androids. In the end it is _you_ who is most dependent on my well-being."

"Don't get smart with me." Knowing he was somewhat right, she grabbed the bandage roll and held her hand out for him. Satisfied at having won that little battle, Vegeta stuck his hand back out and allowed her to resume her work.

A minute of silence passed, as Bulma applied the antibiotic serum to his knuckles before patching them up with the bandage roll, when she prompted another conversation. "Hey Vegeta, what do you think about me? As in what opinion do you have of me?"

He huffed, "Why the hell would you ask something like that? Do you think I care to waste my time having thoughts of you?"

"Yes." She beamed.

He glared at her silently for a few moments, then he turned his eyes away from her, smirking. "You are arrogant, irritating, unpleasant, sickeningly vulgar to the point of making me want to vomit, and I absolutely cannot abide your presence. Unfortunately, I need to make use of your mechanical skills."

He looked back at her, amused to see that she was seething with anger, and he continued, "If you were any ordinary screeching siren, I would have killed you long ago. Lucky for you, your intellect, though far inferior to my own, has spared you from that fate. For now."

Bulma only humphed at his words, "So you acknowledge that I'm smarter than everyone else on this planet, and for my superior intelligence I am extra special to you?" Smugly she added, "I guess you look for brains in a girl. And obviously I am the very first genius woman you've ever met and fallen for, since you seem to like me so much!"

He cackled, "You're mistaken. I _dis_like you."

"Hm." She grinned, wrapping a bandage around a particularly battered finger of his, "Well, would you like to know what I think of you?"

"I could not care less," he snorted and looked away. It was a lie. He was just a _little_ curious to know.

"Well," she began, "I think you are cynical, conceited, deranged, aggressive, hostile, incredibly possessive and territorial, antagonistic, narcissistic and egotistical, sociopathic, and probably a schizoid and an asexual prude... Oh, and you're a huge ass."

Not the least bit phased by her jabs, though a little overwhelmed by her vocabulary, he coolly responded, "Hn. Much of what you said could just as easily be applied to yourself."

"Well. We're perfectly matched then, aren't we?" she quipped.

"The problem with that theory is how I am unable to stand your guts. Simply being in the same room as you is enough to drive me to insanity."

"Same here. I can't stand you. And just by being here with you right now, Mr. Caveman, I can feel my I.Q. dropping by the second." She smiled, and added, "However, I do greatly enjoy embarrassing you."

"Hah! You are unable to _embarrass_ me, woman. Annoy me greatly, yes, but not humiliate."

That was a lie. Of course she made him feel bashful, and she knew it.

"You want to try me?" she smirked conspiringly. Before he could stop her, she whispered, "Would you like to talk about 'eating' humans again? As in... 'eating out'... giving head... cunnilingus... blo-"

He leaned away from her, grimacing in revulsion, "You _disgust_ me."

His withdrawal only made her lean closer to him defiantly, "Not enough, apparently, since you are so willing to become my friend."

"Servant," he corrected her.

"To you, 'servant' is your little guise to avoid saying 'friend', because it _embarrasses_ you."

Calmly he responded, "We'll see if you can finish that upgrade, improve those flawed training robots, _and_ manage the task of routinely mending the wounds I accumulate over the next two months. Only then after proving your worth can you dare to call me that."

"Don't forget about the safety features I'm going to add to the GR! Hah, I can juggle all those tasks, no sweat. I wouldn't be surprised if I can get it all done in a week!" She was exaggerating.

He smirked, "Shall we push the deadline to one week then?"

"Hm. No, I think I'll need those two months to paint the walls of the Gravity Room pink and add a stereo and a cappuccino machine. Maybe a disco ball too."

"If you so much as try to do that, I will paint the walls of your room _red_ with _human blood!_" he roared.

She laughed, but she decided to stop picking on him. Sincerely she said, "You know... even though you annoy me, you have my favorite brand of humor. Blunt and disgusting, yes, but I like it. I actually do enjoy your company, despite your countless flaws."

"Hmph!" He turned his head away sharply, appropriately pouting like the despondent prince that he was.

Masking her compliment to him with a stabbing remark... she was so much like himself. He had to admit that he liked that about her, as well as much more. She was interesting to be around, and it was fun to stay on par with her during their verbal battles and interactions, neither one backing down.

But though he enjoyed their game, he could never admit it to her. How would she react? Would she take advantage of his growing comfort and trust and use it against him, and taunt him? Or what if she felt it would be okay to take their unconventional 'friendship' even further? He knew he'd like to sleep with her eventually, but he didn't know about forming an emotional bond with her.

He'd never been emotionally involved with another, and that sort of closeness intimidated him, scared him, even. He feared having an emotional tie with anyone, and forming further attachments to her now was out of the question. He would only allow himself to let her in once the threat was gone, and once he became the strongest being in the universe, and no one was left to challenge his authority. But he had only decided he would let her get close to him _physically_. Emotional intimacy, though, he was still uncertain of. Would he be able to talk to her about more horrifying details on his past? Tell her and confide to her about his self-hatred and his feelings of inferiority?

And an emotional attachment was a weakness, it could be exploited by his enemies on the battlefield. Hell, he was risking a _lot_ by simply being acquainted with and favoring her. What if the androids found out and held her hostage, or tortured her? He did not know how he would react in that situation, but he was sure it would bother him at least a little. She was a valuable person to him, it would be such a waste if his enemies got their hands on her.

That was how the enemy thought - they knew loved ones were the biggest weakness one could harbor. He knew this because he had personally experienced it and dished it out himself when he purged planets of their people, holding the loved ones of their leaders hostage and making demands. In the end he would kill them all anyway. And one reason he feared an emotional bond was because he had already lost the only people he had been comfortable around, his fellow Saiyans. It had felt terrible, and he did not want to experience further loss, so he pushed closeness and intimacy away.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Bulma suddenly looked up from her work. "Can I ask you something?"

Why did she need his permission? Usually she just blurted everything out...

"Go ahead," he growled, pretending he didn't care either way.

Inquisitively she stared into his eyes and asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

That was not at all what he had been expecting. Suddenly suspicious and wary, he bellowed, "Of course not! Do not belittle me by thinking I would share with you humans such repulsive notions as that love disease!" He seemed insulted that she would ask something so foolish.

"Never had feelings for anyone?" she pried further.

"Aside from _loathing_, no."

"Is that so." She looked away from him, that beaming smile still on her face as she continued with her work.

He was surprised that she did not seem bothered by his answer. He had just said he had never had feelings for anyone, acknowledging that he was a cold, unfeeling bastard... yet she didn't mind?

What he did not know was that it instead made Bulma feel quite smug, for she knew better. She knew Vegeta was slowly letting his guard down around her, and her alone. She was exceptional to him.

And she was determined to be the first woman Vegeta would pine after. That would make her feel special - being pursued by a prince. Maybe not romantically pursued by him, but she wanted him to physically desire her. And perhaps if she was lucky and persevered, maybe she would be the first person he would care for.

Even though he covered up his slowly growing acceptance of her by giving rude remarks and joking about piling human corpses into her room, he had never carried out any of his threats, and he no longer seriously threatened to hurt or kill her. He needed her for more than the upgrades.

And though she didn't realize it, she needed him, too. She was alone and subconsciously hurting from her breakup, but being with him made her feel so much better. She helped heal his physical wounds and his wounded pride, and he was healing her, too, simply by depending on her and by talking with her. They both helped each other feel needed, though the realization had not fully hit them yet.

"You know," Vegeta ground out suddenly, watching her tend to his injured hand, "Even though you human females are disgusting, vulgar creatures, and you are all just begging to be assaulted when you wear such revealing clothing..." He looked away, glaring out the window as he muttered, "I had no intention to purposely touch you in the way I did."

Although he was glad that by touching her he had gotten her to forget about Yamcha, and focus her undivided attention on him instead. But he was still a bit ashamed that he had lowered himself to accidental lechery.

Bulma blinked a few times, surprised by his subliminal apology. "Oh, you're still fretting over that? Hey, don't let it bother you." She was pretending she didn't mind at all, but she was still thinking of getting him back for it. Brazenly she added, "And it's not like that was the first time a guy's touched me without permission. I know how to handle it by now."

"Not the first time?" He scowled at her, disgusted. "And you allowed them to live?" Hell, he had expected receiving some sort of death penalty, himself, for just touching her.

"Well, yeah. I don't want to be thrown in jail for murdering someone who's not worth it! Though I _did_ beat the shit out of them..." She recalled the many incidents when Master Roshi had touched her inappropriately, and she always repayed him by dishing out pain. "It pisses me off, sure, but they're not worth killing. I'm not going to waste my time murdering senile bastards."

Vegeta was disgusted even further. "You humans openly pursue and allow sexual harassment, don't you?"

"It's not acceptable, but it happens sometimes. It's a sad fact of life, being a woman in a misogynist society, especially a beautiful woman like me. But we know how to deal with it."

Vegeta glared at her, his expression completely serious, and bluntly he stated, "As soon as I take to the throne of this worthless planet, I will outlaw that sort of lechery. And I myself will personally execute any perpetrators."

"Oh, you'll do that for me?" She was beaming, utterly happy. "You are so sweet!"

"No! Not for _you!_ To ease my own conscience! It disgusts me that you humans can turn a blind eye to such repulsive things! I do not want my slaves misbehaving!" He snarled and glared out the window again, looking upon West City and imagining himself slaughtering a few dozen libidinous humans. "I may as well ban reproduction while I'm at it. Filthy, primal Earthlings!"

Bulma was quite gleeful that he seemed to not approve of lecherous men taking advantage of her, and she would have liked to give him a kiss on the cheek, or take the opportunity to give him a full-on groping now as a reward, but she decided to save it for some other time. After all, he hadn't _directly_ expressed his concern. He would need to work extra hard to earn an intense cuddling or makeout session from her.

Having been reminded of how he had groped her breast, she thought of how she should get him back for it. While he was still bitterly looking out the window, she glanced down at his shorts. Of course she had already taken notice of his equipment, and she had even taken many guesses to his size, but she was curious to find out for sure just what he was packing in there... And what kind of performance he could offer. Probably a wild, animalistic experience.

She shook her head, breaking the thought off. _I can't believe I considered that! Sure he's hot, but he doesn't seem interested in that sort of thing._ She knew she couldn't just come on to him and expect him to like it or reciprocate. She respected his boundaries, but she still did want him to desire her._ Well, not interested in me YET, at least! He'll come to his senses eventually, especially since he has me to deal with. Not even a Saiyan Prince can resist me!_

As she was examining him, she noticed that there were a few holes pocketed in his tank top. She knew what that indicated. More injuries to alleviate.

"Vegeta, I need you to take your shirt off," she said plainly.

_The audacity of this vulgar creature!_ He was horrified, and firmly he bit out, "_No_."

"_Yes_, jerk. I can see a few cuts in the fabric. There may be more wounds I need to tend to."

"It is nothing serious." He had forgotten about those cuts, and now that she had pointed it out, he could feel the stinging pain of them. It was a bit annoying.

"Nothing serious? So you admit you have injuries under that shirt?"

_Shit. Of COURSE she had to figure that out. _He muttered a torrent of alien curses in response.

"Now, just take it off, tough guy." She gave him a pleading, wilting look. "Please..."

It worked.

"Damned _wench_..." He muttered a few more curses, before he resentfully conceded, "_Fine_. You will deal with these injuries quickly, as long as you silence that bothersome racket of yours!"

He shoved his uninjured hand under his shirt to lift it up, only to catch Bulma's eye and see that she was watching him with anticipation.

"Do you _have_ to watch?" he growled. Normally he didn't care about stripping around anyone, he wasn't embarrassed about it... but she seemed so eager to watch, and that made him uncomfortable.

"I don't want you to think you can hide any injuries from my notice. So, yes, I have to watch," she replied.

"I have nothing to hide, moron," he snarled, and to prove it he proceeded to pull the tank top off using only one hand, glaring at her the entire time as he revealed his flesh. He quickly tore the shirt off, and with an ill-temper he violently flung it across the room.

Bulma looked him up and down as she snickered, "Nice strip-tease, Vegeta."

"You are a conniving-" This time he hissed out a plethora of vicious curse words in four different alien languages.

Bulma was amazed that he had obeyed her command and stripped his shirt off for her. She wondered if she could get him to strip all of his clothes off if she asked, and what else she could get him to do if he joined her in bed.

Avoiding having to mull over her lewd thoughts of him, she looked over his chest and torso, trying not to admire his physique as she glanced over his injuries. Though she found that it was quite hard for her to concentrate with such an alluring man in her line of sight.

There were a few cuts here and there along his pecs and obliques, but as he had said, it was nothing too serious. Still, some of the cuts were still bleeding, and they needed to be bandaged up.

She prepared a clean washcloth and more antibiotics, and she set to work quickly. Vegeta did not objectify, though he voiced his displeasure by growling and snapping his head to the side to glare at the wall.

Bulma took notice of all the scars decorating his torso, and she observed out loud, "You have so many scars. That's quite an impressive collection."

"Awarded to me for my experience in battle," he simply said.

She smiled. She liked that answer. He was a warrior, and his scars proved his prowess in battle, and he displayed them proudly. She admired that he wasn't ashamed of his battle scars.

She began dabbing at the fresh cuts with the washcloth, and he tried not to flinch in response to her touch. She continued to look over every scar he had, but her eyes always landed on the scar directly above where his heart lay. Though her experience in the medical field was limited, she knew that it had been a fatal wound. She knew it was the injury that had lead to his death back on Namek, when Frieza had taken his life. She felt sympathetic for him, that he had died in such an awful way.

But he was alive, here and now, and with her. And she was thankful for that.

It did not fall beneath his notice that she was looking at that scar - his least favorite scar, yet his best, because he received it when he had finally been liberated from the clutches of that monster.

He hated the scar, but he did not try to hide it from her. It was proof that he had survived even death, persevered against all odds. But it also reminded him of his failure to carry out his revenge. It was a bittersweet battle scar to him, and he did not always find it pleasant whenever he looked at it.

"That had to have hurt," Bulma finally spoke.

Vegeta looked away, glaring back out the window, a deep frown on his face. "You can't even imagine."

_So he admits this wound caused him pain_... Bulma mused, _I guess that since he admits it for this injury, it really had to have hurt him more than I can even fathom_. She decided not to discuss that particular scar any further, for she did not want to force him to relive the memory of the pain of having an energy beam run through his heart.

Quietly she said, "I should have been there with you... When you died... If I'd known..."

He glanced back at her, outraged.

He was about to retaliate when she broke him off with a desolate sigh, "I should have been there to tell you that everything would be alright... that you had nothing to worry about. So your passing would have been less painful."

He was taken aback. He thought she had been insulting him at first, showing a sadistic interest in going back in time and watching him take his last breaths, but he had been wrong. She was trying to comfort him instead.

Angry at herself, she berated, "No, instead of being there, I was wandering around the outskirts of Namek, crying and complaining that I didn't have any deodorant! I regret that I was so selfish and blind, when you were the one who has gone through so much worse..."

Nothing she could have done or said back then would have made his death less agonizing... but what she was saying _now_ definitely made him feel better about it. If he had felt regret for his death just moments ago, he did not feel it at all now. Bulma felt bad that she had not been there for him to offer her condolences or help him, and she felt his death was noble, not regrettable or cowardly, as he sometimes thought of it. He hated receiving sympathy, but her words were genuine and sincere. He could not mock her.

"Of course it hurt like hell," he spoke finally, hardly above a whisper, "But I'm somewhat glad it happened."

Bulma studied his face curiously. "Why's that?"

_'Because death made me appreciate the strength I have', 'Because I am learning to value life'?_ What could he say in response? There were so many reasons. Perhaps his death had been the best thing that had happened to him? He still hated that he had been killed at Frieza's hand and had his revenge taken from him, but now... Now he was free, and he was growing stronger with each passing day. That was something to be proud of.

He only shook his head, dismissing himself from giving an answer.

Bulma accepted his silence, and she started to apply bandages to the cuts on his chest and abdomen, as she stated, "You might not be complaining about these shallow cuts here, but I honestly don't see how anyone could tolerate this kind of pain." She briefly glanced up at her work and gave him a lighthearted smile, "You're an amazing guy, Vegeta."

"Not 'amazing'. Just better than everyone," he snorted. He definitely liked the praise she was giving him, but it was in his temperament that he had to come up with a belittling remark.

"Hm." She smiled, "Still. This must hurt."

"You'd be surprised. If I can put up with you, this pain is nothing in comparison." He was smirking once again, forgetting about the pain of his death entirely.

"Jerk." She thumped her finger against the spot where she had placed the last bandage. Then she took his uninjured hand in her own, the same hand that had groped her.

He frowned, "I do not have any injuries here, so _why_ are you-"

She turned his hand over in her own, inspecting his palm and his fingers with an intense look in her eyes, and he went silent. The feeling of her soft fingers touching his own sent pulsing currents through his nerves.

She glanced up at him, holding her eyes on his own.

"For therapeutic reasons," she stated simply, and she glanced back at his hand.

_Therapeutic? What the hell does that_-

His mind went blank as his back stiffened and tensed when she began tracing her fingers along the center of his palm, over and over again, sometimes exploring his thumb or his fingers, varying the pattern and motion of her caresses. He could not feel a repetition in the movements of her fingertips across his skin, every movement unpredicted and surprising him, causing him to shudder as shockwaves of electrifying pleasure worked their way through his arm and entire body.

Slowly his expression softened, his eyebrows involuntarily relaxing. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

It felt good. It felt _so_ damn good. He'd never experienced anything quite like this before, and though he didn't know what to make of it, it felt almost as satisfying as fighting. He wanted her to touch him like that for longer...

Bulma looked up at him as she continued to pet his hand, and she was delighted to see that his eyes were closed, and the scowl on his face was gone. He was completely relaxed with her. She'd never seen this side of him, and she was enjoying it.

Especially she was pleased at how much control she seemed to have over him. She thought it was cute that her actions had put him in a blissful daze. If she could get that reaction out of him by simply touching him, who knew what was possible if she went further... She imagined she could drive him wild with desire.

She snickered at the thought, and she stopped caressing him.

He opened his eyes and drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils. _How the hell did she do that just now?_! He was astounded. She made him freeze completely, vulnerable to the whims of her touch.

What was the point of that? Grooming his hand like the monkeys in the nature documentary? Or was the purpose of her actions to arouse him? The latter was working quite efficiently... God she knew just how to get under his skin... It had felt so good. Why did she have to stop?

No, he wasn't about to indulge in that. He had other things to worry about!

He scowled fiercely at her and pulled his hand free. "If you do that again, consider it your death warrant."

"Oooooh, how scary," Bulma said with a sarcastic flare, flamboyantly throwing her arms up, a big grin on her lips.

"You spoke deceitfully. That was _not _therapeutic, that was torture!" To throw her off, he came up with an excuse to why her touch had paralyzed him. "It was too bad I experienced a momentary anyeurism, and I had no choice but to endure being touched by your tainted claws."

"You know you liked it," Bulma grinned.

"Oh yes, almost as much as I enjoyed being force-fed cake by your asinine mother," he said sarcastically.

Hell yeah he liked it. And she could tell.

Bulma stated, "That was to pay you back for groping me earlier."

"What?" He was shocked, "Payback? You said you didn't-"

"You know, just now you looked very handsome when you weren't frowning," she teased, avoiding having to approach the subject of her plans to get back at him. "Normally, you look so scary with that mean scowl on your face, but just now I could've swooned."

His scowl deepened and he stood up. "Get working on those blueprints of yours. And be sure you tell the blonde haired demon to prepare my dinner."

"Yeah, fine, I'll get on it..." She stood up as well, but the sudden blood-rush to her head made her wince. She held her palm against her forehead, agonizingly muttering, "Oh, just my luck. The hangover's back with a vengeance..."

He noticed the quick shift in her mood, and he could sense that she was distressed by the sudden onset of her affliction.

"You're in pain," he observed neutrally. Normally, he would have laughed if it were anyone else, but not her.

"No shit," she groaned out, her bad mood returning. "It's just a hangover. Ibuprofen's all out, so I have to grin and bear it. Least the pain will be an example for me to never drink again."

He told himself he should not give a damn, not show concern, to just overlook her pain. But his authority got the better of him. He was a leader, it was his job to oversee everything, and though he did not care to remedy the plights of his subjects, she was relevant to him, and she at least deserved relief.

"If you take that drug, you will be able to work on fixing the training bots much more efficiently, uninhibited by the pain, correct?"

Bulma blinked at him. "Drug? You mean ibuprofen?"

"Your mother said it was out."

"Yeah..."

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but regardless he muttered, "My only concern is that you are able to expediently work on the upgrades. Your father gave me a bottle of that crap, and he advised that I take some every few hours for any recurring symptoms I have following the concussion. However, I do not trust his motives, so I refuse to take any more drugs given to me, and I have not been using them."

Bulma knew where he was going. "Aaaand?" she said delightfully.

"You may have them if you want, I don't care. Otherwise I'll just throw them out. Either way it makes no difference to me." He snorted and looked away.

She was very pleased at the implied concern. "You're too sweet, Vegeta. An absolute darling."

He barked back at her, "I'm not asking for such sickening praise from you! I want you to be working to the best of your ability, unhindered by intrusive disruptions your frail body faces."

"Gee. Well, thanks for your concern, pal." She said sweetly, "Now, where are the pills? You have them on you?"

With resentment, he replied, "In... my living quarters."

"Your room?"

He didn't answer. He knew this wasn't a good idea! He did not want her going into his room again... the last time she went in there, she had left her smell behind, and he had trouble falling asleep because of it. Her inviting aroma lingered and called out to him throughout the night, and to put an end to the interfering diversion that her scent had left, he'd ended up opening the window to get a draft in to purge the smell, despite how it had been raining. An onslaught of heavy raindrops were blown into the room for the rest of the night, effectively dampening the carpet, leaving a strong musty odor behind. But he was more comfortable with the smell of mold and mildew, compared to Bulma's irresistible fragrance.

But if he made a big deal about not wanting her in his room again, she would probably become suspicious and think he was hiding something. Maybe a half-eaten human corpse. She would just barge her way into his room, regardless. And this was _her_ house that he was living in. She could kick him out on the streets if she wanted to. Not that he would listen... he felt he owned this house as much as she did. And he wanted to stay.

He turned and began walking out the door, on his retreat he snatched up his tank top from the floor and forced it back on, at the same time giving her a hasty ultimatum, "If you are not out here and following at my heels within five seconds, you won't be getting your medication, no matter how much you cry and beg for it. Now hurry up."

Quickly she followed after him, her gait euphoric, knowing that he actually trusted her enough now to willingly bring her into his room, even if it was just to get a bottle of painkillers. Still, her mind wandered, contemplating much dirtier possibilities of what they could do in his bedroom. She was still seeking vengeance for how he had unintentionally groped her earlier, and she knew just how to go about with her revenge.

She gleamed as she considered her impure motives_. Hm, going up into Vegeta's room? I can definitely pay him back in there... This calls for some feeling-up!_

She was very curious to find out what else her hands could do to him... how immobile she could render him with just her touch.

And she was about to find out.


	14. Chapter 14

His room was much tidier than she had remembered. Especially compared to her own room, which was always littered with trash.

Though she had been in his room only a few times before, it was always hasty, and usually she only went in there to add a few clothes to his closet. She would be out quickly before he would know she had been in there, unless, of course, he had been the one forcing her out. But now she had the chance to take a good look around.

The room was mostly empty and vacant looking, with the exception of a few pieces of furniture, including his extravagant king-sized bed; several months ago Bunny had pestered him on what type of bed he would like, listing the options of available sizes such as single, twin, double, and so on, and her babble annoyed him greatly. But upon hearing her say "king-sized" he immediately demanded that one, though mostly he had just blurted his answer out to make the blonde woman leave him quickly.

And it was definitely a bed worthy of a prince, very plush and comfortable, though he didn't care at all what kind of bed he had. He had slept in uncomfortable places all his life, and he could easily settle to fall asleep on a cold tile floor if he needed to. But here on this planet, because the Briefs family seemed so naively eager to please him with unnecessary trifles, he expected to receive the best of everything to be handed to him.

Next to the bed was an unused nightstand, and a large and mostly empty chest of drawers lined the wall at the opposite side of the room. The closet was filled with expensive shirts, sweaters, and jackets, but he rarely touched them, much to Bulma and her mother's disappointment. When he had moved in, the two women had gone through a catalog of expensive designer clothes, laughing over what outfits they would like to see the prince wearing around the house. But he refused to wear anything that made him look human, unless it was black or dark blue, comfortable, durable, easy to move around in, or made of spandex. Perfect for training, but not for casual wear.

Still, Bulma did not complain. She liked seeing him in form-hugging spandex.

She gave his room another once-over, and she felt the urge to be a nosy snoop and paw around a bit, but she could tell that she was already imposing herself on him and invading his privacy. He looked a little tense, on edge, because she was in his room, his shoulders raised just a little closer to his neck defensively.

Deciding to lighten the mood and lift his discomfort, Bulma jabbed, "Wow, we seriously need a makeover in here. Your room is so bland, Vegeta. You have no tastes." She observed the plain white walls, nodding to herself, "Some pink Hello Kitty wallpaper might do."

He scowled at her, but he did relax his tensed-up muscles. He watched her as she examined his room, and he warned, "If you bring _anything_ pink in here, I'll return the favor by setting the curtains in your living room on fire." He smirked as he imagined how upset the blonde haired woman would get at that.

"You're such a kidder." Bulma only rolled her eyes at his threat, and reaching a curled index finger inside the collar of her shirt, she pulled it to the side, revealing a quick glimpse of her pink bra strap.

Vegeta only showed her a disgusted frown. He chose to ignore the offense she had committed of secretly bringing something pink into his room, instead promising himself that he would need to destroy the furniture in the living room as payback.

He headed toward the bathroom, opening the cabinet behind the mirror and snatching the unopened bottle of pain relievers. All the while Bulma checked out his lithe back again, admiring the way his muscles rippled through his shirt. She noted that, though he was shorter in stature than the average male, his body was much more toned and balanced, lean yet well-built, and excellently proportioned, perfect for one who had to move quickly in battle. He was a Saiyan, naturally he was forged and bred for fighting. And compared to Yamcha, who sometimes skipped out on his training, she felt that Vegeta was much sexier.

Her eyes wandered down as she checked out his firm ass.

_Yeah. Definitely better than Yamcha's..._

With the bottle of ibuprofen in tow, Vegeta strolled over to her, and at arms length he held his hand out. Bulma took the bottle from him, twisting the lid off and popping two tablets into her mouth, swallowing them dry right in front of him.

She did not notice him swallow himself, very lightly, with discomfort.

She pocketed the bottle, smiling, "Thanks. You're a life saver."

"Life _saver_? If anything I ruin lives."

"Not mine." She smiled wider.

"Hn. I'll have to remind myself to do that later." _And don't come crying to me if I accidentally force myself on you_! he thought to himself darkly, _But knowing her, it won't be unwanted, not when she likes it... or if SHE is the one who initiates it! Damn vulgar woman!_

He imagined that if she got really drunk and hard up, deprived and desperate for sex, she would likely try to force him to satisfy her. And he was sure he couldn't resist her for long. His own desire had increased tenfold after she had advanced on him the other night. And now after he had gotten a touch of her flesh.

He was hoping that now that she had received the ibuprofen, she would be satisfied and leave his room now, but she didn't move. She only stood there, continuing to stare at him.

"Well? Are you leaving or not?" he said gruffly. The longer she was in his room, the more her scent lingered. He made a mental note that he would need to order her mother to get him one of those air purifier things... otherwise, in response to the fertile human smell Bulma left behind, he would spend the night sleeplessly relieving his sexual frustrations with some hand work. He disliked the air purifiers for the incessant hissing noises they emitted, but he would be more comfortable hearing that than Bulma underneath him in his bed, crying out in delight.

Dazed at the horribly vulgar thoughts he was having now, he drifted out of his daydream and internally cursed at himself.

Bulma studied his face a bit, noticing his sudden unease, and she said, "Just wait. I have to tell you something."

"_What_." He snarled, acting as if he was not interested. What was she going to do, finally admit that she wanted to screw him? If she did say that right here and now, tell him that she wanted him, he would have to struggle enormously to not subdue her and bring her over to his mattress the instant the words escaped her mouth.

"Vegeta... you have..." She took up an uncontrolled bout of giggles as she blurted, "A really nice ass."

He roared, "Alright, you've been in here long enough! Get out!"

She raised an eyebrow at his behavior. "Hey, don't yell at me! You invited me in here!"

"I did not _invite_ you, I _ordered_ you to get your medicine! And I knew I had no choice but to allow you to accompany me. You would have stalked me here regardless!"

She folded her arms, conveying that she did not intend to move. "Well, I'm not leaving yet. Your shirt is torn up, remember? I suggest you change."

"Not with you in here! Your stench is making me sick!" _Sick with desire!_ he thought crossly.

"C'mon. You have about twenty perfectly good tank tops in your closet, and don't think you can deny it, because I helped mom put them in there, what, a year ago? And the shirt you're wearing now reeks of blood and massive B.O., and it'll only smell worse after you finish up your training." She teasingly prodded him in his chest with a finger, "And you know that if you show up at the dinner table tonight smelling like that, my mom will be the one changing your clothes, and knowing her, she will also insist on stripping you naked and bathing you herself."

"If that deranged woman tries to touch me, she's dead. I will simply shower in the living quarters of the Gravity Room after I have finished my training."

"Are you sure? Mom just cleaned the bathroom in there a few days ago while you were resting from your injury. And she used Pine-Sol and Oxi Clean to remove the disgusting bloodstains you left smeared across the floor. I know you hate the smell of all those chemicals." She wasn't really sure if he hated the smell, but she knew Goku didn't like strong, artificial odors, such as when she had worn perfume one day. He had pointed out the smell of her perfume, commenting about how it bothered his nose and made him want to sneeze. And Vegeta was a Saiyan as well, their noses were extra perceptive.

She was right. Vegeta almost always avoided the GR's living quarters, but he was even more prone to avoiding having to go in there when he had noticed the powerful smell of cleaning products recently. He'd figured that was Bulma's doing. But no, it was her _mother_ who had done it? He didn't like knowing that the crazy blonde woman had been near the GR. She would probably break something or tinker with the wires, effectively destroying the Gravitron.

This was all that insane blonde bimbo's fault! Vegeta was enraged as he snarled, "I am going to _brutally murder_ that psychotic mother of yours!" He stormed over to the closet to pick out a new shirt, Bulma trotting closely behind him. He skimmed over the clothes quickly, and within one second he made his selection... but not before he felt something brushing up against his left buttock.

Horrified, he could not even turn his head, but he knew what was now clawing at his ass cheek. Bulma's fingers.

"Like I said. Nice ass." She leaned in close to him and gave a good squeeze, digging her fingers into his flesh. Her words were husky and commanding as she whispered into his ear, "I can't help but do this, especially since it's something I'm not allowed to have."

He shivered at her words, but he was seething with rage. He turned his head and looked her straight in the eye, sending a shudder down her spine, and he maliciously spat out, "Remove your peasant hand _now _before I _tear it off_."

He stopped talking when her fingers moved up to graze his lower back, playfully dragging her fingernails against his skin. It felt especially nice there, to say the least... But now was not the time to indulge in it, if ever! Sure he didn't complain too much when she touched him when tending his wounds, but now her motives were different. She was flirting, or trying to get a reaction out of him. He didn't like being treated as her play thing!

He could not retaliate, but still he snarled at her in warning, like some sort of wounded beast. Inwardly he told himself, _I hate this woman!_

His warning growl had come too late - she found the scar where his tail had once been, and her fingers swept across it.

"Hm. What is _this_ scar from? How could I have not noticed it before?" She very lightly laid her fingers upon it. She had heard that the Saiyan tail was a weak spot, and that Raditz had become immobile when the tactic was used against him by Goku. She knew she was being a bit mean by using Vegeta's weakness to her advantage, but she didn't intend to make him actually hurt. She was merely curious to see how much she could get Vegeta to freeze up.

What she did not know that not only did it still slightly immobilize him, it also caused him an irritating pain. Though he had long ago trained himself over the weakness, it still bothered him and never came as a welcomed touch. And it was another reason he was glad to be rid of his tail, and he did not mind that it did not seem to be growing back. The feeling of his tail being squeezed was so unfavorable, but above that, he hated that it was a _weakness_. Saiyans were not weak, but having that Achilles heel was the price to pay for keeping the trigger for the great ape transformation.

But now that it was gone, though he would have been made a mockery of for losing his tail, he was glad that his only physical vulnerable point was out of the way. The raw scar where his tail had once been did not completely paralyze him when touched, but it still hurt and numbed him a good deal.

But with Bulma doing it, it numbed him a _lot_.

And at this moment, more than he disliked the pain he felt, he hated that she knew about his weakness. And she was using it to gain an upper hand over him.

She blinked twice, shocked, as she was spun around and pushed between the clothes hanging on the closet rack, her back pressed against the wall. His body was suddenly looming very close to her, invading her personal space threateningly. His hands were closed around her wrists, like vices they were pinning her arms against the wall at either side of her.

His eyes bored into her own darkly, an intense, wrathful look in them. She was rendered immobile, trapped, and helpless to his whims. And she was actually afraid.

Blood-lust was conveyed in his eyes as he slowly and darkly groveled out through his teeth, "If you _ever_ touch me there again..." he struggled to think of something incredibly malicious, but he only knew the perfect words for such an occasion in the Saiyan language, so he spat out a quick torrent of nasty sounding alien words in his native tongue.

Bulma could not understand any of it, but by how passionately and profusely he bit out the colorful words, she just knew it must have something to do with ripping a human body apart, or a method of torture just as brutal. And he was intending to carry the brutality out on her.

But despite how dangerously he spoke, she found that because he was speaking in a different language, he was incredibly sexy.

He stopped speaking his threat, and he glared at her, "Make your promise that you will not touch me again, and I might release you." Ruthlessly the corner of his mouth turned up into a cruel smirk, "I might even allow you to live for a few minutes. Then I will decide how inhumanely I will wreak havoc on you, and I will hunt you to the corners of your home and carry out your punishment."

Bulma was provoked into feeling an incredible surge of fear now. Here was the old Vegeta she had seen on Namek, callous and evil, psychopathic and wild, laughing and joking at the thought of carrying out an execution.

He squeezed her wrists harder, but not hard enough to cut off the circulation or hurt her, and he silently cursed himself for the fact that he had to be gentle to one of these weak humans.

She didn't feel any pain at all, instead, she found that she actually liked the feeling. She was terrified of him at this moment, almost as afraid of him as she had been when they met on Namek. But it was not in her disposition to be afraid. Knowing that she may very well be killed by him, she built up her courage to look him in the eye, feeling daring now.

She ignored his command and defiantly purred, "Say that again."

He clawed into her wrists by just a bit, but she only shifted in response. She was really starting to enjoy his roughness. She wasn't certain if he seriously wanted to hurt her, and she was truly afraid at this point, fearing that her life was about to end, and she knew that by the look of death in his eyes.

But that only made it more thrilling to her. She had never in her life been treated like this by anyone, and she was enjoying it. Finally, she had found a worthy opponent to test her supremacy against! She never knew how much she had been longing for something like this, but as she stared into her captor's dark eyes, she realized it now.

And she would break him down, this impossible man. She would have to tame him and make him long for her.

She melted under his touch now, and she actually began to tremble. But not with fear.

He sensed her fear mellowing a bit, and through his hands he could feel her shaking slightly. He could tell she was afraid of him, but he could sense that her fear had mostly given way under a feeling he couldn't identify. And the trembling of her body was not the result of terror.

"You will _not_ lay a hand on me again. Understand?" he commanded with a snarl. He actually wanted to let her go, because he was beginning to be intimidated by her, and at the same time turned on. But he wasn't going to back down. He needed her guarantee that she would not touch him there again.

She calmed herself, and playing his words over in her head a second time, she frowned at him. She would make no such promise! She wanted to touch him more and challenge him, and she had to win! She always did!

She struggled a bit, but he did not relax his hold on her wrists. So she decided to fight back in the only way she could - with some bold flirting.

She lifted her leg up and rubbed it against his inner thigh, breathlessly whispering, "Translate what you said in your alien language. What was it, huh?" She wrapped her leg around the back of his thigh, attempting to pull him closer to her, but it was like trying to move a tank. She narrowed her eyes instead, and she viciously interrogated him, "Were you telling me how you think you own me? How much you want to _screw_ me?"

How could she be so nasty when her life was at stake? He couldn't believe the way she was behaving around him, so at ease when he was sincerely itching to take her life!

He pushed her legs against the wall with his own, pinning her there so she could not move. Unable to make him budge, she squirmed around a bit, but she could only move her hips. The desperate grinding of her hips against his own was driving him crazy, and even though he was physically in control, she was almost controlling him with the mad desire she was causing him to fall under.

Hurriedly he spat out, "Give me your word, and I _might_ save your execution for later." He wanted to leave her _now_. Her struggling was starting to make him hard, and he did not want her to see how excited she was making him. He could not allow her to have that satisfaction at knowing he wanted her.

"I'll give you my word only if you tell me what you said. Come on," She lowered her eyelids, peering at him through the screen of her blue eyelashes, "Tell me what you're going to do to me if I dare to touch you again."

"Do you _really_ want to know?" he said dangerously with every bit of mal intent he had.

"Mhmm. I think I can process your _idle_ threats."

His threat hadn't been idle, not this time. He had been seriously threatening to kill her, though he'd said it in Saiyan. To hell if she was incredibly gorgeous, useful, and his servant, he wasn't going to let anyone touch his tail stump and live. Rarely had he ever had his tail grabbed. It had been stomped on and kicked by Frieza and cohorts many times, certainly, but that had not devastated him. Not even Frieza knew of that vulnerability, of laying his fingers on a Saiyan's tail and squeezing; the Saiyans had never spoken of their one weakness, always protecting the secret of their only shortcoming.

And though he no longer had a tail, and Bulma wasn't actually touching it, it was the same offense to him - laying her hand on the scar that remained. She was taking advantage of his weakness, violating him. It was something Vegeta prided himself on, not allowing anyone to get their hands on his weakness, and now she had pressed her fingers on where his tail had been. It was the same thing to him.

He would not translate the explicit killing method to her - she would not be able to handle it. He chose to issue another threat that was much lighter in comparison. He cracked a savage grin, "I wonder if, when I dump your carcass in the kitchen, your mother will make a side dish for me out of the meat stripped from your bones."

Not afraid at all, she responded with a laugh, "Oh yeah, definitely. She'll do anything for you, even make a meal out of her own daughter. Mom's devoted to making you happy."

He growled, tiring of this game that he was losing, "Are you going to give me your word or not? Am I going to have to kill you right now?"

"Am I going to have to kiss you to get you to back up?" She retorted, giving him a crafty, seductive leer, "No, I can't keep that promise, Vegeta. I will continue to touch, harrass, and molest you at my leisure. Not that you're irresistible or anything, but I love making you uncomfortable."

He pushed her into the wall harder, sneering at her with a face of pure evil, bringing his face closer to her own as he uttered, "And I would _love_ to _kill you_." He no longer cared that his thighs were shoved against her now. He swept his tongue across his lips, thirsty for the kill. He had not taken a life in so long, and now that he felt the urge to do so for the first time in ages, he wanted it, even more than his desire to roughly fuck her senseless. He would skip the sex and just kill her.

She could not move much at all anymore, only crane her neck. She was beginning to grow annoyed at being unable to have control over him, or her own body, for that matter. She jerked her head forward and tried to force a kiss upon his jawline, knowing that would make him uncomfortable and submit. But because he was in the mood to kill, his senses were at their peak, and he saw that attack coming. He tilted his head away quickly, and she aimed for his shoulder instead.

He was expecting her to kiss him there, but he was surprised to feel a sharp pain.

He jolted suddenly in shock, and he turned his head to the side and looked at his shoulder, only to discover a raw mark left in his skin. She had _bitten _him.

He was astounded. He was not at all expecting to be wounded by this frail woman, but the bite actually stung him. His violent Saiyan urges dropped, and the need to see blood was replaced with astonishment. Then he realized what he had been doing, that he had her trapped against the wall, and he was preparing to take her life.

His grip on her wrists relaxed slightly, and she continued to struggle to try to free herself. She narrowed her eyes and growled out wildly, "If you don't let go, the next time I bite you it'll be _very hard_!"

She did not know that her bold flirting and vicious actions were making _him_ hard. She was actually threatening him, despite her position and how he had her life in his hands. But her aggressiveness was turning him on even more. She was such a savage, barbaric woman, and that only made him desire for her to bite him again, and leave her mark across his chest.

His thoughts of killing her diminished, and now he wanted nothing more than to take her now. His bed was only a few feet away, he could drag her over there, force himself on her, and get it over with. He didn't really care if it would please her, but he needed to be relieved, _now_.

Turned on past the point of return, he forced himself to come to his senses, breaking off all lewd thoughts. His sanity and composure finally returned, and he immediately dropped her wrists and stalked away from her, leaving her stunned.

As he was heading out the door, he shouted to her, "Get out, work on those blueprints, and prepare for your execution first thing tomorrow morning!"

He stormed out of his room, leaving Bulma there in shocked silence. She felt relieved, and yet she was also thoroughly disappointed and frustrated. She wanted to beat him in that game. She had won, but not in the way she wanted to. In that moment, she had lost all reasoning, and she wanted him to do her right there, she wanted him to push her down onto the bed and have his way with her, hoping to continue their fight in a more carnal manner, and see who would end up the victor in that tryst.

She knew it was foolish to think such a thing, but she hadn't been thinking clearly in the first place. She was left in awe that he had pushed himself that close to her - he didn't seem to be the type to be comfortable with touching her, but this definitely came as a surprise. The dangerous Saiyan who wanted to kill was still there, and though she was afraid, she was also intrigued. There seemed to be an internal shift in him, and he was showing her that he was still lethal and evil to the very core.

But that only made her want him more.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the Capsule Corp compound, Vegeta angrily stalked through the house. He had almost made it to the front door when he sensed Bunny in his path. He cursed his fate out loud as he tried his best to ignore her very existence. As he strode by her through the narrow hallway, he cringed when she cheerily said, "Oh hello Vegeta, I'm going to the bakery in a while, is there anything you would-"

She gasped out loud suddenly, and Vegeta knew she had spotted it... the undeniable and very obvious proof of his arousal, impressively bulging from his shorts.

Her voice was stricken with awe, and she gaped, "Oh... my... Mister Vegeta, are you-"

"It is NOTHING!" He spat out, very quickly walking past her, "I simply became over-excited at the prospect of slaughtering every human on this planet!"

"Oh. A sadist. I see... How interesting!" Bunny then asked much too eagerly, "Do you need any assistance relieving-"

"I do NOT!" he roared, completely enraged at the proposition she was hinting at. He forced the front door open and shouted over his shoulder to her, "Remind me to kill you later, you fucking blonde hussy!"

"Okay, dear!" she delightfully called after him.

Enraged that the blonde was too stupid to fear him, he slammed the door so hard it fell off its hinges. From inside the house he heard Bunny delightfully call, "Oh, I'll call someone to fix the door before dinner time, Vegeta!"

So eager and blissfully delighted to jump at everything! He hated the blonde bitch the most!

Outrageous, Bulma was hitting on him and she had dared to touch him in a place that was off limits, turning him on with her savagery, and now her mother was offering to help him take care of his erection!

He cursed as he entered the Gravity Room, knowing his training would have to wait as he would need to spend a few minutes relieving his frustration with his hand. He rarely needed to beat-off, seeing it as a vulgar waste of time more than anything else, and he was never in the mood to, but now he had no choice but to use Bulma as his source material for this grudging session. It was her fault, anyway! He was so damned aroused from that encounter, and when she had back-talked defiantly, and hell, _bitten_ him, it only pushed him over the edge.

Luckily for him, Bulma had not noticed his hard-on... she had been fiercely staring at his eyes instead. But that bothered him almost as much. She never looked away from his eyes, never afraid of the cruelty he conveyed through them. It both angered him and sent waves of desire through him. How could she not fear him?

Things were becoming more complicated. His game with Bulma had changed. Now it was not just about seeing who could keep up with their verbal spars, now it was a game of 'what can I get away with', seeing how far she could go without being killed. And he didn't know if he would ever be able to kill her in response to her actions, after the incredible fearlessness she displayed today.

She was a distraction, and a huge one. She had been trying to take advantage of him, using his weakness to get what she wanted out of him, and he had been enraged, yet fascinated by her. Though he had physically stayed in control (not counting his erection), he was horrified at the internal struggle he was facing. Kill her, let her live, or screw her now?

And now her scent was thick in the room, and it pissed him off. Mostly because he could do nothing to fully satisfy himself in response to her pheromones, not yet, and he hated to resort to a vulgar method to feel relief.

He decided to sleep in the Gravity Room that night. To hell if it stank of Oxi Clean.


	15. Chapter 15

The following morning, Bulma was surprised to find Vegeta sitting at the table, hogging a good half of it to himself and eating his monumental breakfast laid out before him. She had anticipated that he would have chosen to avoid her, as he usually did when she would do something unforgivable to set him off, but he proved her wrong with his nonchalant presence in the kitchen.

She joined her parents at the other end of the table, and after helping herself to a plate of food she watched Vegeta. He did not even look up to acknowledge her as she took her seat, only continuing to eat silently. After a few minutes of their customary family morning discussions, Bulma's parents finished up their breakfast and left to go about their daily routines.

Pretending to be unconcerned as she gulped down the last of her coffee and stood from her seat, Bulma casually said to her house guest, "So. I thought you were going to execute me."

He shoved scrambled eggs, brown rice, a few bacon strips, and half a tomato into his mouth all at once, swallowed, and without taking his eyes off his feast he ground out carelessly, "Not now, you pest. I'm eating."

She shrugged and headed for her lab to continue working on her blueprints.

He did not execute her when he finished his meal, or at all that day, for that matter, and it only made Bulma wonder what was going on in that head of his. She worked on her projects all day in her lab, expecting him to burst into the door at any moment and blasting her on the spot. But he never did.

He really had considered carrying out her execution for violating him, but he had deliberately chosen not to kill her. After he had spent the uncomfortable and restless night in the Gravity Room, he passed the hours by carefully weighing his options and contemplating what to do.

But instead of holding a grudge, he found that he had to silently commend Bulma for not backing down against him the previous day. He had conveyed his anger to her through the vicious scowl and the threats he'd uttered, but she showed no fear. She stood her ground in the face of death, further proving her bravery, and he found her to be an incredible human now with an internal strength that he could not measure up to.

He decided he would never kill her, no matter how angry she made him, even if she were to take advantage of his weakness again. Though he was choosing to let her live, it couldn't hurt to throw idle threats her way every once in a while, in order to deter her from the suspicion that he was growing very fond of her inner strength.

As the days passed, they took up a routine. Vegeta would spend his days avoiding her and training in the GR, while Bulma worked on refining parts for the Gravitron. By night, he would finish up his training and head inside to eat his usual feast, then do something meager to pass his spare time, mostly by watching violent splatter movies, though they bored him and he could not help but criticize the unrealistic gore and special effects.

Bulma would head outside when she finished working in her lab, sometimes taking a few verbal jabs at her house guest before heading out onto the lawn, and she would then head into the GR and install a few components to the Gravitron. She was making a lot of progress with the upgrade, and she was very satisfied with her work, but she did not want to tell Vegeta that she was definitely going to be able to get the 1,000Gs upgrade done, much earlier than by the end of the year. She didn't want to spoil the fun.

Vegeta made a habit of avoiding Bunny more than ever now, and if she approached him he would attempt to send her away by giving her dirty looks, or leaving the room before she could so much as open her mouth to give him a friendly greeting.

She was a complete air head, and when she had offered to help 'relieve' him, she had not intended it to come off sounding sexual; she had only been about to good-naturedly offer to help Vegeta relieve his body's natural frustrations by suggesting that he take a cold shower and douse himself in ice water, but before she could get the words out of her mouth he cut her off, assuming she was proposing something involving her mouth on him. It was nothing more than an irreparable misunderstanding, but he never looked at her the same way again. Now he hated being in the same room as her, unless it was the kitchen and she was bringing food over to him.

As the weeks crawled by, Vegeta tried to spend them avoiding Bulma's incessant flirting, while she dodged multiple suitors. She had not heard from Yamcha again, and slowly she was beginning to forget about her anger toward him. And, much to Vegeta's satisfaction, she did not bring her ex up in their passing conversations.

The pair continued their little verbal banter each day, though they became incredibly busy with their tasks to make their sparring game a priority. He never brought up what had happened between them, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He still harassed her, and sometimes he would randomly give her mixed looks, scowling at her, yet confusion clouding his eyes, a look she didn't understand. She continued to actively tease and spar with Vegeta, but he did not allow her to touch him again, unless it involved treating his injuries.

Sometimes she would take the opportunity to 'accidentally' brush his leg or elsewhere with her fingertips, getting a favorable reaction out of him - a heaping dose of anger. He would then attempt to appear unaffected by her touch, throwing her advancements off by calling her a 'lewd slave woman' and such. Still, that was never enough to deter her. She reveled in the fact that she could get such a reaction out of him with just her touch.

He began to notice that her mannerisms changed a little, gradually as she bickered with him more. She would stare at him longer, her eyes lingering on his own expectantly. She took to biting her bottom lip and holding it between her teeth as she tended to his wounds, as if it was taking all her strength to not force him down on the bed and bite him again.

Her behavior perplexed him. He was sure she was up to something, or plotting to kill him, though he had not sensed any malicious intent from her. He could sense something else instead, slowly building in her the longer they spent time together, but he did not know what it was. It was an emotion he had never felt, except among these Earthlings, but it had never been directed at him, not until now.

She knew what it meant. She was beginning to have _thos_e feelings for him. She knew it would not be a good idea to want him in that way; she had just gotten out of a relationship, after all, and she didn't want to jump right into a new one so soon, or make an unwise decision and get hurt. She tried to ignore her feelings and tried not to let them progress any further beyond lust.

Lust she could handle, and at first she would not have minded if they would have a friendly fling, but now she wanted a friendship above anything else. To her chagrin, her sexual appetite was growing, and she had to resist the urge to satisfy her hunger by hunting Yamcha down to have no-strings attached breakup sex with him, as had been their custom over the course of their relationship.

She was definitely curious about a sexual relationship with Vegeta; she could tell the chemistry was there, at least on her part. She trusted him, he had proved to be careful around her and he never hurt her, but with her growing feelings she was starting to hope for more. But a relationship demanded and required undeniable commitment, and she would need her trust for him to grow. And now that she knew she at least liked him, she didn't want to hurt herself if he used her for a one night stand and nothing more. She wanted to get him to desire her for more than sex. That was her ultimate goal in her game.

Of course, she couldn't deny that he was just perfect for her - a tough guy lone wolf, slightly wary of women yet intrigued by only her, just as Yamcha had been in the beginning of their relationship. But unlike Yamcha, Vegeta was her equal, on the same level of intelligence and as witty as her. He could hold a discussion without getting confused and changing the topic. Yamcha was no fun for her, he had always become confused if she attempted to start an intellectual conversation with him, and when they fought he had always given in to her demands. But Vegeta fought back, and their arguments were engaging. He was the only man who put up a fight, and she craved a worthy opponent to test herself against. He was exactly what she wanted.

If she was going to consider any sort of relationship with him, she expected to get everything out of it. He would have to be hers in every way, no shortcomings, nothing less than what she deserved. She had made great progress in taming the beast so far, and she was certain that she could get more out of him.

* * *

It was one late November afternoon as Bulma strolled into the kitchen to get a snack, when Bunny, tidying up the counters and rearranging a vase of flowers, excitedly announced, "Hi sweetie. Your father wanted me to remind you of our annual Capsule Corp Christmas party. You need to pick an outfit to wear!"

Bulma groaned, "Mom, you know I have plenty of time to worry about that later. I don't need to get all dressed up two weeks in advance! I'll just pick something out from my closet at the last minute, like I always do."

It was nothing special to her. She had attended countless Capsule Corp parties and corporate get-togethers all her life, and the social gatherings always bored her. She hated to host those events and be pursued by men in her own home. She was not always forced to attend the parties, but now that she had a more distinguished position at the company, and with the many contributions she had made over the years, it was expected of her to make an appearance at the very least. But she would rather spend that time working on her projects. Or teasing her favorite house guest.

Though this Christmas party was only reserved as a formal get-together with her father's clients and co-workers, so she was relieved to know it would not be something too difficult for her to bear through. Only a few scientists and inventors were expected to be there.

She suddenly had an idea. She thought it would be wise to ask around if any of the scientists knew anything about Dr. Gero. Any information she could gather by talking around could help, and she hoped she could find any leads on his whereabouts, or if he had any weaknesses.

Now she was actually looking forward to the party, just a little.

Bunny said then, "Oh, and don't forget, your father and I are traveling to Parsley City tomorrow for a business trip. So you'll need to take care of mister Vegeta while we're gone, and make his meals. Keep him company so he isn't lonely!"

Bulma headed over to the pantry, looking for something to eat, and to her dissatisfaction her favorite snacks had not been restocked. "He's not some baby that needs to be looked after," she chided to her mother, searching an empty cabinet, "Well, okay, he sort of is, but that doesn't make me his slave."

"You are bound to serve me no matter what, woman." Vegeta strolled into the room and sat down at the table, rapping his fingers against the wooden surface to let Bunny know that he demanded his lunch to be served immediately. He smirked at Bulma, "If I was an infant, I would expect you to hunt down and feed me raw meat at all hours of the day."

"And change your soiled diapers, and feed you milk straight from the teat, right?" She rolled her eyes.

Vegeta frowned, disgusted as usual by her vulgar remarks, but he had grown a little accustomed to them by now. As Bulma bent over to grab a snack from the cabinet, he watched her. He had taken to checking her out more lately, staring at her rear end or bust. She had clawed his ass and tail stump, so he felt it only fair to freely ogle her now as much as he liked. He'd already crossed the line and touched her, so staring now would not be too taboo, especially when compared to what he had already done. Just as long as he looked away before she could catch where his eyes were focused on... her. And always her.

He had long ago convinced himself, _It's fine if I just LOOK... besides, I own this woman, she is bound to serve me. And if she notices me checking her out, I'll just tell her I was simply noticing the countless flaws of her hideous body._ He smirked at the thought, imagining how angry she would get at that remark. And how he would get to see her scowling face again, that he found so lovely.

He knew Bunny was right about one thing. He did run a bit on the sadistic side. It was in his nature. He thought Bulma looked especially pretty when she was angry at him, so he went out of his way to make her mad.

He was more or less only trying to convince himself that he owned her, that she was tied to him through servitude, but he knew he could never control her. She would never allow herself to be owned or objectified. And he liked that. She was independent and stubborn, never giving in, much like himself. If she was a docile and obedient human, eagerly giving in to his demands, he would not have so much respect for her. He valued that she was strong willed, and he actually enjoyed being around her, even when she defied him and tried to boss him around.

But he still tried very hard to convince himself otherwise.

"What is it?" She was looking at him now, holding a box of Lucky Charms, snacking on a handful of the dehydrated marshmallow shapes. "What was it you were staring at just now?" she teased.

He realized he had been caught staring, being absorbed in his thoughts of her, and he fired, "Just your incredible ugliness."

"Oh, funny, you must have been looking at a _mirror_ and not at me, then."

He snorted. Sometimes he thought he really was looking at a mirror, though not in a physical sense. She was almost exactly like him, by the way she acted and spoke harshly, and had an unrelenting streak of narcissism and pride, and that surprised him, always. Despite their clashing personalities, he got along well with her, at least by his standards.

"So," Bulma tossed the empty cereal box into a trashcan, "Capsule Corp party. Two weeks. I'm warning you in advance to not stir-up any trouble around our guests. I don't care if you don't want to show up... however, there's going to be a lot of really good five star restaurant worthy food..."

At this notion, he clenched his jaw, already greedy to sample the food. But regardless, he did not want to be in the company of so many unfamiliar humans. "Of course I will not attend such a worthless gathering. I have more important things to do, as do you. You will only be wasting your time mingling with the other weaklings of your species."

"Hey, I have no choice," she frowned, wishing she could just ditch the responsibility of having to attend, "Suit yourself, then, if you don't want to show up and save me from the countless number of guys who'll ask me out."

Vegeta snorted, not caring. Because he knew she wouldn't waste her time on the scum that approached her. He was sure that if she would want any man, it would have to be him. After all, as she had said, he had an irresistible ass.

* * *

The next day, Bulma's parents left her in charge of the household as they departed, and she spent the majority of her day in the lab, sometimes helping assistants with their tasks or taking brief conference calls. By evening, she called it a day, and she decided to go into her father's study to search for any information on Dr. Gero, any leads that could hopefully put a stop to his evil plans.

She pawed through textbooks and folders lined up on the bookshelves and in filing cabinets in his study. She spent a good thirty minutes looking though documents and books, and she was about to give up, unable to find anything about the Red Ribbon army's mad genius, when she came across her father's book of scientists, which to all inventors in the industry was like a handy and very extensive biographic phone book, sitting on the corner of his messy dust-covered desk. The book looked like it had not been touched in a while, with several dozen dark brown coffee rings embedded on the front cover, which by now had faded to a dull color.

She picked the heavy volume up and brushed away a caked-on layer of dust, startled as a tiny spider scrambled across his desk and disappeared. She critically examined the worn out book, tsking, _Typical of dad... using this as a rest for his coffee mugs. _Though she knew that with the messes she made herself, she would not have been able to take much better care of the book herself.

Moving away from the desk to avoid being attacked by any more spiders, she sat down in a reclining chair at the other side of the room, flipping to the back of the book quickly and looking through the index. Spotting a one-paged entry for 'Gero', she pawed through the yellowed pages, until she found what she was looking for.

Her eyes landed on a picture of a gaunt looking old man with sickly mummified grayish skin, sharp cheekbones, and a receding hairline. His stark white hair was wiry and tangled, resting behind his shoulders, his nose villainously bent and crooked, pointing down to his mustache that concealed his curled grimace.

Bulma gasped. He looked terrifying and hideous. Those chilling, ice blue eyes seemed to pierce right through the photograph and into her soul. Truly this man had to be the very physical embodiment of evil. It was not a face she could easily forget, one that she was certain would be manifested into her nightmares.

"What... an... UGLY old man!" she said out loud.

There was little information on him in the text beneath his photograph, no home or work address, not even a date of birth. A brief paragraph only stated that he had graduated from the science academy decades ago, and much of his life studies were contributed into the illegal black market science trade. He'd spent his career dabbling in inhumane malpractices - human experimentation, energy extraction from living bio organisms, creating illegal stealth tracking devices, and the quest for the holy grail of science - immortality.

Bulma ground her teeth, not surprised. "Bah. Immortality, of course. You know someone's an evil son of a bitch when that's all they think about!"

She thought about Frieza, how the cold tyrant had sought out eternal life, single-handedly carrying out the huge catastrophe on Namek. And then she thought of Vegeta, and how he seemed to no longer care to live forever. Did that mean he was no longer evil?

She hoped that was the case.

* * *

By nightfall, she was exhausted and ready to call it a day, reclining in a chair in her own personal study. She was playing a small hand held video game, and a cup of blueberry flavored herbal tea rested on her desk. She paused her came, taking a break to drink from her cup.

Seconds later, the tea she had been drinking was projected into a fine mist, hitting the screen in front of her, as Vegeta burst into the room, bellowing, "WOMAN! What is going on? Where's in the hell is my food?"

She wiped her mouth off and snarled back at him, "What do you think you're doing in here? This is my private study! P-R-I-V-A-T-E! That means you have to knock first!" She dried the screen of her game console off on her shirt, adding, "Would you barge in on me when I'm sitting on the toilet?"

"I would simply flatten you with the door as I kick it down," he answered nonchalantly. He could see the fury being lit in her eyes, and he smirked, having caught her in a vulnerable moment. She was in a foul mood. Now he could easily mess with her. "With you smothered under the door, I will not have to bear witness to your grotesquely mutated body."

"You'd be lucky to even catch a glimpse of me naked!" she roared. "I'm sure you've probably tried peeking though my window already!"

Vegeta sniffed the air once, frowned, and said, "Not that strawberry scented garbage today?"

"Pardon?"

"That drink that went flying from your mouth," he sneered.

She glowered at him, "For your information, we ran out of strawberry flavored herbal tea, so I had to go for a blueberry one."

"Hah. Inattentive humans, allowing your supply of food to run out. You should have restocked your pantry ahead of time to prevent the shortage of food. And you have _me_ to feed, after all." He scowled down at her as she resumed playing her video game. "Which brings me to why I'm here. Why haven't you prepared my dinner?"

"You can make it yourself, or find something in the fridge to eat," she mashed her thumbs against the buttons, struggling to bypass a difficult obstacle in her game.

"I looked, moron. There is nothing."

She glared up at him. "You're kidding me."

"Go see for yourself."

"Alright, alright. I'll go check and see if there's any food..." She shifted her position in her chair, making herself extra comfortable, "As soon as I beat this boss."

From his spot, he peered at what he could see of the screen and scowled, scrutinizing the strange device in her hands. "Why would you waste your time on that? Why aren't you working on that gravity upgrade?"

"Don't worry about your precious upgrade. I told you, I'll be able to get it done." She crossed her legs, frustratedly squinting at the screen, "I'm just taking some much needed downtime, playing a game and relaxing. Haven't you seen a video game before? Fun way to waste time."

He had seen such things rarely, but he never understood the purpose to it. How could a noisy plastic machine be more fun than killing someone? Playing video games seemed like a past time for the weak.

"You can wait out there if you want," Bulma waved him off, "I'm stuck on this hard boss. It'll take me some time to beat it... I spent ten minutes trying already." He didn't leave the room, and she growled out as she lost yet again in her game, "Ugh, I'm not good at this... I prefer strategic games like Tetris!"

He marched over to her spot and thrust his hand down in front of her face. "Let me see it."

Suspiciously she raised an eyebrow at him. "Why should I? You've never played this before."

"I don't need any former experience to beat a pathetic Earthling game! I can take one look at this thing and come up with a strategy to overcome it."

"Are you saying you're going to beat the boss for me?" She beamed, "What a nice friend you are!"

She handed the game system to him, pointing to the buttons, "Press this to jump, and this one to-"

"Hands off and keep quiet. I can figure it out myself." He took one look at the pixelated character on the screen, seeing that it was some sort of chubby little man. He snorted, "I was half expecting this to be some sort of a game involving that Hello Shitty creature."

"Hello _Kitty_."

He grunted. Then with a quick flip of his wrist, he launched the video game system across the room, and it made a horrible crackling sound as it hit the wall and broke.

"Takes care of that impassible boss for you," he bluntly said.

"You jerk! Is destruction your answer to _everything_?" She groaned irately, smearing a palm across her face.

"You said you needed to beat your game, and I have done so for you. Now you can serve my dinner."

"Hmph. Well, that's fine, it's not like I really care that you broke my game system... I have about five others in reserve, anyway! I can afford as many replacements as I need!" She smirked, "I have to keep spare game consoles because sometimes, I uh... spill coffee on them." She spoke truthfully. She was not always careful when she played video games, often getting angry at a difficult boss and slamming her fist against her desk, spilling food or drink on the game system.

"I'm not surprised. Idiocy seems to run in your genes." He turned his back on her and stepped out into the hallway, commanding, "Now that you're finished with your little game, get out here and work on my meal."

"Fine," she grumbled, following him as they headed to the kitchen, thinking to herself of how she would get him back for wreaking her game.

Once she entered the kitchen, she searched the pantry and cupboards, surprised to find that there was almost no food. Besides a few frozen meals shoved in the freezer, an old value pack of expired instant ramen noodle cups, and some strawberries, Vegeta had eaten the rest of the food as a snack for lunch.

"Didn't mom restock the fridge or pantry?" Bulma groaned, "Ugh, I guess she was so excited to go on her trip that she forgot, _again_. Great."

She pulled a box from the freezer, examining the frozen dinner. It didn't look to be enough to satisfy the Saiyan appetite, and the frozen meals had been in the freezer for a while, but she figured they were still safe to eat. "Sorry, you're going to have to settle for this for now."

He scowled at her, "You're not going to your local market to gather ingredients for me?"

"Nope, I'm tired," she yawned appropriately.

"Well then, in that case, I think I'll round up your father's precious pets and eat those instead."

"Oh no you WON'T!" she shot him a fierce warning glare.

He only mocked her with a cackle, pompously sitting down in a chair in front of the table, as a king would sit at his throne.

Bulma sighed, not wanting Vegeta to resort to eating her father's beloved animals for his dinner. "Okay, fine, I'll go to the store in a while to get your food. But for now just eat one of these, and hopefully you'll be satisfied for at least five minutes." She ripped the box open and shoved the cheap plastic tray of frozen food into the microwave.

Two minutes later, following the impatient tapping of her foot, the food was cooked, and she brought it out, grabbed a fork, and dumped the tray on the table in front of Vegeta. "Here you go, jerk. Eat up."

His nose crinkled up as he took in the odor of his meal. The food did not smell appetizing, nor did it look very appealing. Everything on the tray was of a dull color. With the fork he stabbed at what appeared to be a flimsy steak slathered in a heaping amount of some sort of gelatinous grease or syrup. Possibly both.

He warily brought the food up and into his mouth. Immediately he regretted it. The meat was much too tender and over-processed, with little substance, and without chewing it easily broke down in his mouth, the texture of it similar to soggy cereal. He had to force himself to swallow it.

He fared no better with the pathetic side dishes. The watery mashed potatoes were of poor consistency, and the flavorless, stiff corn he sampled tasted like cardboard.

"So how is it?" Bulma inquired, "Usually I don't eat that kind of food, myself. It's probably not good for a gentle lady's complexion, and I'm sure it can give you the runs."

He grimaced. "Runs? What the hell is that?" _Do I even want to know?_

Too late.

Bulma snickered, "Yeah, y'know. Diarrhea."

He pushed the plastic tray across the table, as far away as he could get it from himself, at the same time spitting out some of the corn he had been chewing on. "You tell me this NOW!"

"Well SO-REE! You demanded food, and I gave you what we have! Though you _could_ always drink a relaxing cup of blueberry tea, or eat one of my strawberries."

"No, I definitely will _not_ shove that foul garbage into my mouth! I would rather eat this shoddy meal than one of your disgusting berries!"

"Suit yourself!" Bulma leaned her elbows on the table in front of him, veering, "Tell you what, why don't you come with me to the supermarket? You can pick out whatever you'd like to eat. Anything you want."

It definitely sounded tempting, to hand-pick the food of his choosing. But he had never been outside the Capsule Corp compound, having no reason to do so, for he had grown used to having everything brought to him and his basic needs met. He had never before explored the metropolis surrounding the grounds, and he did not care to.

"I will not waste additional time," he said.

Bulma persisted, "Don't you want to spend just a little time among your future subjects, so you'll know them a bit more when you reign over the Earth?" She wanted him to accompany her to the store, figuring it would be fun to see how he would act in a public place.

"Hn. True, this planet, as well as this universe, belongs to me now. But I have no interest whatsoever in getting familiar with worthless humans."

"Well, I would like to bring you along with me to prevent you from killing and eating my dad's pets... but maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea." Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, and she pretended to be deeply contemplating, "What if someone recognizes you from the news coverage from when you first invaded the planet, and they get scared?"

His eyes lit up eagerly, and a cruel smirk graced his mouth. "In that case, I'll go." He rose from his chair, arching his back and stretching his muscles, "I'll enjoy taking this opportunity to strike terror into your people."

"Now you WANT to go?" A slightly worried look marked Bulma's face. She didn't want him to cause any further mass destruction. Though he had not gone on any killing sprees since he had come to live on Earth, and she was positive he would not misbehave, as long as he was with her.

He cracked his knuckles. "How long will this take?"

"Well, it depends on how much food you want... could take ten minutes, could be an hour..."

"Fine. Show me to this human marketplace."

"Alright, just let me get my capsule car..."

He cackled, "Car? No. I am not using your primitive method of transportation."

Bulma retorted, "With your ability to fly, _you_ might not need to use a vehicle, but I do! And how else are we supposed to bring all your food home? Carry it in our arms? Impossible, because I know you'll want to bring half the store home with you."

"Go ahead, then. Use your dependence on your vehicle as a crutch." He headed out of the kitchen, over his shoulder saying to her, "Go there, now. I will track your energy signal, and on your arrival I will see you there."

She watched him leave, and after discarding the microwave dinner in the garbage, she headed for her room. She was hoping that their little trip to the store would give her some amusement, but at the same time she prayed that he would not cause a scene or kill anyone who happened to look at him the wrong way. And with his hairstyle, she knew that was very likely.

* * *

**A/N**- I know it's cliche to have a CC banquet/party/whatever in B/V fics. But I don't care DERP.


	16. Chapter 16

She pulled into the sparsely populated parking lot at half past seven, slinging her purse over one shoulder as she stepped out of her car.

Like he had said, only ten seconds after she left her vehicle, he dropped out of the sky, landing on the pavement in front of her and making her jump. Bulma glanced around quickly, worried that someone may have seen him descend from the heavens like an otherworldly harbinger of death.

Not spotting any panicking people, she urgently hissed to him, "Can't you make an effort to be a little, oh, I don't know, inconspicuous?" Bringing Vegeta along with her to the store suddenly seemed like a very bad idea, especially if he was planning to fly around in plain sight of the earth-bound people.

He didn't show any regard for her concern. "Your fellow humans will need to get used to the sight of me dropping in on them when they least expect it. And I love to terrify your kind." More along the lines of terrifying _her_ was what he loved. He had startled her, and instantly that put him in a good mood.

"Hmph!" She locked her car, not bothering to encapsulate it for she did not want to lose her parking space.

Vegeta walked a few feet behind Bulma as they crossed the parking lot, cautiously watching her and the people they closed in on. He spotted an old couple near the entrance of the store as they approached.

Bulma glanced over her shoulder to look at him as they neared, and she slowed her stride until she was walking next to him. He scowled.

"I'm only going to say this once. I don't want you causing any trouble," she warned him.

He snorted, not caring to listen to her. He resisted the urge to blast the elderly couple on the spot, and as the wrinkled woman and her husband made eye contact with the Saiyan as a friendly greeting, he snarled ferociously at them, his lips fiercely pulled over his teeth, flashing his gums. The old woman almost had a heart attack.

Bulma gave Vegeta a critical look. "Hey! What did I tell you?"

"Quiet, you pest."

She wrinkled her mouth up into a pout and groaned. This was going to be a long night.

As soon as they stepped inside the store, Bulma grabbed a shopping cart and pushed it ahead of her. Vegeta walked only several feet behind her before he stopped and glared up. He noticed a crude surveillance system of some sort, a television set displaying his live captured image.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked into the video camera, and he showed his most evil grin. The humans were watching and recording his movements. Good.

He held his arm out and charged a ball of ki in his palm, aiming for the camera.

"VEGETA!" Bulma hollered from ten feet away, quickly stalking over to him, "Could you _try_ to behave?" She tugged at his sleeve and tried to pull him along with her, but she learned that it was impossible to get him to move that way.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" he snapped back at her, but the ki in his palm dissipated. He folded his arms and continued walking alongside her.

"I can't keep my eyes off you for even a second without you attempting to blow something up! You're like some naughty little kid!"

He ignored her complaints. "Guide me to where the live meat is contained."

"_Live_ meat? Sorry, pal, we don't have that here."

He made a mental note to try some Earth game sometime, otherwise he would just have to hunt down and eat one of Dr. Briefs' pets.

As they headed over to the meat section of the store, Vegeta shot deadly looks at every human he crossed, very effectively warning them to not come within even three feet of him. He succeeded. Everyone stayed out of his way.

"Beef, fish, chicken, pork, lamb, dinosaur... you name it," Bulma waved a wrist at the different varieties of meat on display. "Well, go ahead and pick whatever you like. Anything." She dangled her credit card between her fingers for good measure, smiling proudly, "You're lucky I have so much money at my disposal."

He looked over the sprawling selection of meats. He approached the counter and grabbed the first thing he laid his eyes on, a large ham.

"That's a good cut," Bulma commented. "I'm sure my mom usually gets that kind for-"

With his fingers he clawed through the plastic wrapping, completely breaking the protective seal.

"Vegeta!" She bellowed, "_What_ are you _doing?_!"

He tore a piece of the raw meat out through the hole he had created and took a bite. He grimaced and tossed the entire ham back. Too tender for his liking.

Bulma walked over to the counter and snatched the ham up, throwing it into her cart. "You are _so_ uncivilized! You know everything you damage and contaminate, I HAVE to buy!"

He ignored her and picked up a huge flank of beef, sniffing the package it was contained in. It smelled pretty good. He ripped the entire plastic wrapping off and bit into the meat. Bulma covered her face with her palm. "Oh my GOD, Vegeta! What did I _just _say?" She was mortified.

Vegeta tossed the package into her cart. "You're going to buy it for me anyway. I don't see why I shouldn't eat it now."

"Alright, fine, misbehave all you want. But the next time I repair your Gravity Room, I might _accidentally_ break a few circuits and put your training on hold for a few hours!"

He picked up another meat package, inspecting it with a critical eye, as if it were disease ridden. "And the next time I see your parents, I will accidentally kill them."

"And I will accidentally grab your ass again, how about THAT!"

He leaned over the front of her cart, putting his hands on either side and halting its movement, forcing Bulma to stop in her tracks.

"Let's see you try," he sneered.

"Is that your 'go ahead', giving me the okay to touch your princely tush?" she retorted. "Are you going to move now, or do I have to ram this cart into you?"

He took his arms off the shopping cart, placing his hands on his waist. "Is that your way of saying 'please kill me, _Prince_ Vegeta'? Because I'll do it for you, very willingly. Assisted suicide is my specialty," he gave her an especially cruel smirk.

She jerked the cart away and continued down the isle ahead of him, spouting sarcastically, "Oh, right. Whatever you say, my half-pint prince charming."

Charming? He was in no way charming. He frowned, annoyed.

Bulma pushed the cart with her into an isle lined with shelves of canned food, Vegeta following behind her and glaring at the cans, uninterested. He expected fresh food, not canned garbage contaminated with preservatives.

Bulma grabbed a few cans containing mushroom slices, diced tomatoes, chopped green beans, and a variety of other canned vegetable, not even bothering for Vegeta's nod of approval for the items she selected and tossed into the cart. She then looked up to the highest shelf in dismay, noticing the canned lima beans were perched at the very top, far out of her reach. She leaned close to the shelves, boosting herself up only a few inches by standing on her toes. Despite her efforts, she was still unable to get her fingers any closer to the row of cans.

Too lazy to fetch something to serve as a stepping stool, she gave up, choosing instead to find a substitute for the beans among the lower shelves. After a fruitless search of the bottom shelf, she noticed that Vegeta was not at her side. She looked up to see him hovering five feet above the ground.

"Weakling." He tossed a can into her cart, which was already packed with meats and fish. He dropped to the floor at her side. "Teach yourself to levitate sometime. Your struggling is pathetic."

She was flattered, but she overlooked his rare act of chivalry, though Vegeta preferred that she didn't point it out. She scorned, "What part of trying to keep your super powers to a minimum don't you understand? If anyone sees you flying around like that, you'll have some paranormal investigator geeks chasing after you, and I don't want you laying them to waste on my front lawn. Not to mention the bad press I'll get for housing a vicious alien. Capsule sales will surely decline if that happens!"

She ran a few nervous fingers through her hair, fretting, "So what if the androids wipe out half the people on this planet? If my company fails, we're done for." She wasn't being completely serious, but still she shuddered at the thought of having to buy cheaper mascara, until Capsule Corp would inevitably regain its place at the top of the market, as it always did.

_As if something like that is the biggest of her worries. What a spoiled woman! _She was living the life he should have had, he thought jealously. Though he was a little envious of the life of luxury he had been denied, he wanted to make her pay for her careless comment. He would have to be extra mean to her. The fact that she was physically weak amused him greatly, and he enjoyed rubbing it in her face and showing off his abundance of strength around her.

He scoffed, "In that case, I'll have to fly around and make myself seen by everyone here. By now you should know how much I enjoy making your life miserable." Definitely one of his favorite past times.

She frowned as she shambled to the end of the isle, not stopping as she knocked a few boxes of pasta into her cart. She observed the other denizens in the vicinity, "You know, I'm surprised that nobody seems to recognize you from the news coverage of when you invaded our planet. You were on every station." From the corner of her eye she looked at him and jeered, "I was sure they'd at least remember your unforgettable hair."

He overlooked her remark this time. She was right, and he was surprised as well. Nobody seemed to recognize him. And he was amazed at how much he seemed to blend in among the humans. None of them gave him weird looks, that is until he snarled at them and they leaned away from him with fear. He was astounded, though, that they didn't run away screaming. It actually pissed him off, and it let his expectations down.

_These ignorant bastards. They should be kneeling at the sight of me! Don't they realize who I am? _He frowned bitterly, _These Earthlings are dumber than I thought. They aren't even worth the trouble I'm going through to take care of their android problem._

Although he would have liked for the humans to bow to him and treat him as a king, he was not going to fight the androids to save them. It was to satisfy his thirst for battle, and to prove his strength and superiority. He didn't care what happened to the Earth, though as far as he was concerned the planet belonged to him now.

Bulma was engrossed in reading the label for some expensive encapsulated barrels of rice, pondering if she should spend the required $50 per barrel. She knew her house guest was very capable of eating that much in one week. Vegeta looked over at her, watching the slight agitation in her movements.

This human, however shrill and loud she could be, was exceptional among her kind. Though she spoke in a disgusting manner and constantly shrieked at him over petty little things, she was gifted with unrivaled brilliance, not to mention how the sight of her in a pair of skin-hugging jeans was a feast for the eyes. She had to be the best of her kind, he was sure of it. Aside from her, he couldn't care less about the other Earthlings.

But though he favored Bulma, he didn't like to think that he was saving her from the androids. 'Save' and 'protect' were seldom included in his vocabulary in the first place. He didn't have any plans to go out of his way to prevent her death, but he was sure she would likely survive whatever she faced. Somehow she had managed to live through her ordeal on Namek, so her safety was not a huge concern to him. He didn't care to worry about something like that, especially not when she had proven she was able to look after herself and survive anything.

And, for the sake of his pride, he would not go through the effort of saving her, as long as she could save herself.

Once they were in the personal hygiene isle, Bulma cocked her head at Vegeta and snickered, "Which one do you want, roll-on or solid?"

He saw that she was motioning toward a display of deodorants, and he pulled a face. She was mocking his body odor again. He hated when she did that, because it instilled in him just the slightest amount of shame. It was only because of her remarks on his foul sweaty stench that he now bathed almost every day. He kept up his hygiene for _her_. It was humiliating to him, but it wasn't like he had much to lose by bathing more often. It only hurt his ego just a bit.

Not getting an answer from her companion, Bulma grabbed five different prescription strength deodorants and antiperspirants and dumped them into the cart. "You're going to need all of these," she assured him, trying hard not to guffaw at the sight of his flustered face. He hissed through his nose and snapped his head to the side, refusing to maintain eye contact with her.

She was only teasing him. She felt he deserved it, anyway, after he had behaved like a barbaric animal by eating the uncooked meat, and how he did not heed her warnings of keeping his powers under a leash.

As they continued through the isles, Vegeta began to notice an uneasiness building inside him. With every human he walked past and resisted killing, he grew more restless. After several more minutes, he began to feel nauseated and light-headed, his headache escalating with every passing second.

At first he concluded that he was just feeling hunger pains, but after a while, he understood what was truly wrong, and he was filled with unease at the realization.

After tossing a few loaves of bread into the cart, Bulma glanced back at him, and she noticed that he looked tense. "Hey, you alright? Are you sick or something?"

"Of course not!" he snapped back at her.

"Huh. Guess I shouldn't have given you that microwavable dinner," she chuckled. "Or maybe it was the raw meat you just ate that's upsetting you."

It was not the cheap microwave meal he had taken only a few bites from that was unsettling him, nor was it the uncooked meat. He had not been around so many Earthlings before, surrounded by so many powerless weaklings, easy pickings, and he wanted badly to kill them all. Especially after yet another unsatisfactory day of training he had endured, once again reminded of the fact that he had not yet found the secret to ascending. Taking his frustrations out on and at the cost of the lives of others had always calmed him down in the past. After years of therapy involving slaughtering millions of people across the galaxies, his body subconsciously yearned to kill now that he was feeling irate.

And realizing now that the Earthlings were unaware of who he was, he felt an incredible resentment toward them. He wanted them to know that he could kill them with ease, and he had to show them who he was. Seeing the slight panic in their eyes every time he sent a human recoiling from him with his grimace only added fuel to the fire. He wanted to watch their faces contort and twist with a much greater fear as he crushed the life from them. That would make his sickness subside. It always had, all throughout his life violence was the answer to everything.

As Bulma grabbed a box of Lucky Charms, Vegeta stared at her slender hands, not taking his eyes off them.

She shoved the cereal box into the shopping cart, and he growled, "That'd better not be for me."

She was buying the cereal for herself, but she snickered, "Yeah, I thought you'd like it. It comes with a free prize."

His patience wearing thin, he snatched the box out of the cart and stared into the vacant face of the cartoon Lucky Charms leprechaun. Something about that round, cheerful face was pissing him off. It reminded him of Bunny.

Without restraint, he slammed a fist through the cardboard and plastic wrapping, and cereal fell out of the box and landed on the floor. Several shoppers nearby turned their heads to stare.

Bulma buried her face in her hands and groaned loudly.

Vegeta dug his hand around in the destroyed cereal box for a few seconds before he found the toy prize, stuffed in a frail wrapper. He grimaced when he saw what color it was. Pink. Some sort of pink plastic toy. Simply looking at it was hurting his eyes.

"Jigglypuff," Bulma explained, her voice a little weary. "It's a pokemon."

The Jigglypuff was then launched across the store when Vegeta pitched and threw it as hard as he could. Only a second later, the sound of the plastic toy shattering against the wall a few hundred feet away was clearly heard, almost as loud as a gun shot. Then a hushed silence fell as startled people looked around for the source of the noise. Even the music in every isle stopped playing.

Bulma hissed under her breath, "Vegeta, can't you at least _try_ to control yourself?"

"Pipe down!" He yelled back at her, "What made you think I would ever want that worthless pink waste of space in my possession?"

"I was only kidding! I was getting the cereal for myself, not you. Duh!" She snatched the wrecked cereal box from his hand and threw it in her cart, "And now I have to pay for this shredded box. I swear, you're like a wild animal sometimes! And _I_ have to clean up after you!"

"Yes, that's your job, isn't it," he snarled and folded his arms.

He was at the very least _trying_ to stay in control of his actions, but he couldn't help that he was growing even more short tempered. He was becoming physically distraught at denying himself the pleasure of the kill.

But he couldn't kill anyone, not now, at least. And more importantly, not in front of her. If he did snap and slaughter everyone in the area, he knew Bulma would be far from happy. He was sparing her from seeing the blood spilled at his hands.

He felt a tightness building in his throat and chest. What was this feeling? Empathy? How could he allow himself to feel that? It was unacceptable, especially how the suffering he was going through to go against his nature was for her. And he hated it.

Was this how friends were? He despised that he was beginning to see her as something like that. Yet it was a little comforting that he could rely on her as a comrade of sorts, though for her technological and mechanical skills and not in battle.

Aside from that, there was another reason he could not partake in killing. If he went on a slaying spree, Goku would probably have to step in and confront him. He hated to admit it, but he knew he wasn't ready to beat him yet. At this point he would prove no match, Goku would definitely be the victor if they fought now. He had sensed the catastrophic power of a Super Saiyan. It would be a no contest win for the younger Saiyan.

Trekking farther into the store again to gather more food items, Vegeta followed her, growing more agitated, especially at being reminded of the third-class dog he had yet to overcome. He stared at Bulma's hands once again, memorizing the way her fingers moved, trying to still his thoughts, yet his mind led elsewhere. He wanted to start a fight, cause a riot and a panic among these people. He looked to the front of the store, internally plotting a war plan, the best approach that would suit this situation. It was a wide, sparse store, the isles close together, locking people in. A perfect killing zone for a particularly enjoyable hunt, where he would resort to chasing the humans down like they were rodents.

He would barricade the front of the store, closing it off so the humans could not escape once the uproar of terror spread through them. He would quickly teleport around the vicinity to close off any side doors or rear entrances, and then he would leisurely take his time picking the humans off one by one.

The very thought sent a tremor of anticipation down his spine. It had been such a long time since he'd last quenched his bloodthirst.

While Bulma pushed the shopping cart along in front of her, Vegeta stopped. He swayed in one spot in the middle of the isle, his chest rising with every eager breath he took in through his nostrils. He was observing every human with his sharp and unmerciful eyes, sparing no one from his assessing gaze, imagining them panicking and fleeing from him. His nose flared as he took in the scent of each one. His senses were at their peak, alert and ready for something to trigger him to leap for the kill, his ears picking up the sound of people bustling around. Not one scent, sound, or sight went overlooked or unchecked.

Bulma noticed that Vegeta was not following her, and she turned to look at him, seeing him standing rigidly in one spot, looking far off, his eyes not focused on anything in particular. She sighed and left her cart, walking over to him.

A sharp and unpleasant shrieking sound reverberated through his ears, and he winced. He placed it as the wailing of an infant in the arms of its mother. It was a sound he particularly despised. He locked on to the source of the noise, his killer instincts shooting up exponentially. He outwardly shuddered as the child continued to squeal, and he wanted nothing more than to make the sound stop and to put an end to the child's crying himself.

He did not notice that Bulma was pulling him along by his hand. He only knew that he was walking, scrutinizing every human he walked by, and the sound of the sobbing child drew nearer. Eagerly he allowed himself to be drawn closer to the human sacrifice by Bulma's unknowing hand.

He stopped suddenly when he bumped into her, and he snapped out of his catatonic daze. A confused frown crossed his lips as he looked at the back of the woman his chest had collided with. Immediately he forgot about the irritating sound of the screaming baby, and his undivided attention was now on Bulma.

She spun around and brazenly stared at him, and his eyes wandered to her most vulnerable point - her throat. He always tried to avoid staring at her throat for too long, but in this moment his eyes had moved to the spot on their own. His instincts had taken over for him, and he cursed at them. He didn't want his actions to be ruled completely by instinct. He had to have control over all impulse, conquer and keep his instinctive urges under control.

He had chosen to not kill her, that decision not dictated by instinct or morals, but by his own conscious reasoning. It was by his personal choice to keep her alive, and it was only for her peace of mind that he would not kill any humans while in her presence.

He forced his eyes away from her neck, choosing to look at the ceiling of the store as he tried to calm his rising blood pressure. Bulma examined him with concern. He was sweating, and it looked like he was going into shock.

She did now know that he was actually going through a withdrawal from his addiction to killing, and he was struggling to not relapse so soon. His body was teetering over the edge of self control, and Bulma could hear every distressed breath that rattled through his clenched teeth. He swallowed and held his eyes closed for a few seconds, shutting his parted lips and drawing in a long breath through his nose, trying to calm himself.

"Hey. Are you alright?" Bulma waved a hand in front of him, speaking very clearly to him, "Is it your stomach? Aneurysm?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her hand, which was now up in his face, and he took in every detail. He noticed the light blue polish on her fingernails, and suddenly he so badly wanted her fingers on his skin, clawing, scratching, he didn't care, as long as it would distract him from thinking about how much he wanted to kill. He knew of one way to still his voracious appetite for mayhem. And he would need to use her. This was all her fault, anyway, he was convinced. If she wasn't there with him, he would go right ahead and kill every human here, but he was actually worried about how she would react to seeing the carnage, something a delicate woman like her should never bear witness to, not again. She had seen his ruthless side on Namek, when he had blasted a hole through Zarbon's midsection, sending his internal organs taking flight against the green sky. He would spare her from having to see something like that again.

But conveniently she was both the problem and the solution all in one. He remembered when she had done her strange therapeutic torture to him some time ago in the infirmary, running her fingers over his hand, and that had made his mind go completely blank. He was aware of how effectively her touch was at calming him down and immobilizing him. It had worked the last time and purged all other thoughts he'd had. Maybe now he could use it as an asset.

And he was interested to see in what other ways Bulma could be useful to him. Besides, he wanted to find out exactly how her touch affected him, and how much it had control over him. And if he could overcome it.

Though he couldn't just blatantly tell her to do that again. She would probably take it as an initiative to go further. Not that he would really mind at this point.

He couldn't sacrifice any more pride asking her for her help, so he opted for something else - he would have to see if touching _her _would have a similar effect. He felt he should be entitled to touch any part of her as much as he wanted, anyway. He hated that he was resorting to this, but he would rather not get carried away by his impulse and wreak havoc on his slaves.

Bulma's soft voice cut his thoughts off, "Why don't you tell me what's going on? You don't look so good."

He winced at hearing such sickening words, the horrible and shameful truth being raked into his ears, and he struggled to prevent himself from looking back at her neck and thinking of destroying her through a quick decapitation, or killing every other human in the compound.

She watched as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and into the strained crease formed between his scowling eyebrows pinched together in a grimace. He continued to stare at the ceiling, willing himself to stay under control.

She didn't understand what sort of internal struggle he was facing, but the outlook didn't seem good. The old Vegeta was showing himself again, the unpredictable one she dreaded.

"Vegeta," she sighed. She wasn't good at consoling others, but she offered what she could, "I don't know what's wrong, but if there's anything I can do to help-"

He took that as his initiative. His eyes were on her own instantly, and she went silent under his dark glare. His gaze wandered to her hand, and he stared at her fingernails again.

Then he saw, on one thumbnail, a small vibrant hot pink heart-shaped decal. He didn't know if he should laugh at her foolishness or feel enraged, but immediately the only thought occupying his mind was that he wanted that damned heart to disappear. It was _sickeningly_ pink.

Bulma had little time to react when he snatched her wrist and brought her hand up to his face. She stiffened at the feeling of his rough and almost painfully hot fingers latched around her slender wrist. His temperature was nearly scalding, and her concern for him was only heightened.

His touch sent sparks through her entire arm. To his amusement, he felt her begin to tremble, and her pulse had quickened.

He sneered as he scrutinized her thumbnail, thinking of what would be the most appropriate method of getting rid of that unsightly heart. If it were anyone else he was dealing with, he would simply rip their entire hand off.

"Oh, so you finally noticed," Bulma said, seeing where he was looking, her tone coming off a little more nervous than she would have liked. "I got my nails done a few days ago. I thought you'd like this little pink heart on my-"

With his free hand, he peeled the decal off her nail, then he disintegrated the tiny heart with a small flare of ki.

"Hey! That thing cost me two dollars!" Bulma shrieked at him. She tried to free her arm from his grasp, but he would not let up.

He turned her hand over in his own, critically noting and assessing every curve, groove, and indentation in her fingers and her knuckles, pressing his thumb into the center of her palm and applying pressure to her hand, squeezing here and there and feeling her muscles and tendons through her skin. This woman was so damn fragile! He could hurt her with absolutely no effort. Not that he would want to, but being reminded of the difference in their strength was always a wake up call to him. If he ever wanted to get more physical with her in the future, and if he wasn't careful, he could seriously injure her.

He looked up at her eyes to see that she was avoiding keeping her eye contact with him, instead staring at his hand. She wore a strange look on her face, one that utterly perplexed him. It seemed that by touching her, he'd gotten an odd reaction out of her, rendering her silent. She was more timid than he had ever seen her before.

He did not dislike seeing this demure side of her. He was amazed that by his simple touch he had intimidated her. Touching her seemed to have more of an effect than his harsh words alone. He would have to use this against her more often.

He thought of what other things she could do to him with her hand, and he scowled as he envisioned something incredibly lewd. Damn, he was becoming more perverted. It was all her fault!

He crushed the fingers of his free hand around hers, immobilizing her hand in his own and forcing her forward and closer to him.

"Hey! That hurts, you brute!" she retaliated, shocked by his hasty actions. He scowled back at her, waiting for something to happen, but he didn't know what it was.

Bulma finally looked him in the eye, though he was spaced-out, trying to drive his impure thoughts away.

"Could you stop for a minute?" she said quietly.

He finally released his grip on her, and with her free hand she rubbed the sudden soreness from her wrist. To her it felt as if he had blocked the circulation off in her hand, and it was numb and tingling.

He looked back into her eyes accusingly, but he said nothing in return.

She wilted under his glare, but she stood her ground. She forced herself to not glance away as she forced out, "I know I'm so irresistible you can't help but want to hold my hand… But you're actually scaring me."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear from the one person he valued for her bravery.

"You're _afraid_ of me?" He moved closer to her, not realizing how frightening he looked. His chest was almost touching her own as he breathed out threateningly, "Never say that again."

She lowered her head, but she refused to allow her fear to make her look away from his eyes. "I'm not _afraid_ of you," she half lied, "I'm scared because I'm worried about you. You look like you're sick or something."

She actually wanted to whine and cry at this point. It had been a long stressful day, and now she was anxious over how frightening he seemed. She didn't know how to act in this situation.

He brushed her concern to the side like it meant nothing to him, "As if I care what you fret over."

She brazenly raised her head back up and glared at him, forgetting her fear and concern as anger flowed through her. "Oh, well excuse me for worrying about you, you jerk!"

"Stop nagging already!" Though reaffirmed of her courageousness, he sensed her anger, and to his chagrin that made the urge to kill something rise in him again.

"Well you're just-"

He raised his hand to her face and curled his fingers around her jaw, pulling her face close to his own. "Just remember this. I don't want you to say that to my face ever again, Bulshit, if you really aren't afraid of me."

His new favorite nickname for her infuriated her. "Stop calling me that! My name is BULMA! Remember _that_, asshole!"

He traced his fingers under her jaw, momentarily silencing her shrieking. "Right now, I'd like for my attention to be diverted on how I hate you the most, and I'll be reminded of my promise to dismember you. I'm in the mood to kill someone. You wouldn't want that, right? Offer yourself as a sacrifice, and you should do to distract me from killing my legion of slaves. I don't want them to go to waste."

Bulma would have laughed at this point, but she did not find the daunting look on his face to be humorous. "What are you talking about? What the hell do you want me to do?" She suspected what he wanted would be something along the lines of a puff-puff.

He lowered his hand from her face and locked his arms across his chest, and immediately the nausea returned. To his dismay, touching her did not seem to be working to whet his appetite for death.

He tried a different approach to spur her into assaulting him, "Even if it was only by a miniscule amount, I should never have put any faith in you, woman. You're a disappointment to me."

"What is that supposed to mean_?_!" she shrieked and took a step forward.

The anger in her eyes both amused and unnerved him. "Let's see how much you can get away with. Try to assault me with your talons, and we'll find out if I can hold back from killing you."

"Is this your sick idea of a game? You're such a…" she shook her head, giving a defeated sigh strained with worry. "Alright. Fine. If it will stop you from wiping out everyone here, I'll play along with your stupid little game, but you have to promise me something."

"I'll make no promises, but go ahead and amuse me."

She struggled to find a good way to say it, but no matter what it seemed too embarrassing and foolish to her, so she shrugged it off, "You know what, never mind."

"Never mind?" He growled, his thirst for blood rising with her defiant attitude, annoyed that she was refusing to speak her mind to him, but he could not get any other words out of his mouth once she quickly shot her arms out toward his midsection. She obtrusively pressed her fingers against his torso, prodding and wiggling her fingers around, trying to tickle him.

He had no idea what the hell she was doing to him, but it felt like torture.

He leaned away from her and snarled, "What the hell is this _agonizing_-" but his retreat came too late. She only advanced much closer to him as her fingers explored the sides of his ribs, relentlessly tickling him there, a vicious sneer on her features as she continued antagonizing him.

Involuntarily he gave a cruel, barking cackle, the sort of laugh one makes when watching another getting hurt and jeering for their pain. It was not a giddy or joyous laugh like she had been hoping for, it was probably closer to a cough or a sneeze, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

A Vegeta-ish laugh. She liked it just the way it was. Immediately she stopped tickling him and threw her hands over her face, trying to stifle a laugh of her own.

He took a step back, unable to hide his grimace. Though to his great relief, the urge to kill was gone. However, it was replaced with utter humiliation.

"You don't know how much I hate you," he ground out dejectedly.

Bulma laughed boisterously, oblivious to his discomfort. "Wow, I didn't know you had that in you. I thought it'd be impossible to get a laugh out of someone as lame and mean as you, at least not a deranged laugh."

"You'll hear me laugh triumphantly soon enough," he retorted with a grim snarl, "As I stand over your grave."

"Sure, if that's your way of asking me into your bed, which is like a dark little coffin."

The look of horror etched on his face was priceless, and she laughed again, wishing she had brought her camera.

"Don't make me sick," he retorted.

Bulma rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't disappear. "Okay, since it looks like tickling you has at least calmed you down, tell me, what was that about just now? Why did you need me to harass you? You looked pallid. Are you okay now?"

He closed his eyes and groaned, at this moment hating her tremendously. "I was using you to my advantage."

Her smile faded. "_Using_ me?"

"Something like that, yes. You've proven to be a useful tool in some ways, though limited." It was true, she had successfully gotten him to calm down, and now he was content. Though now, to his disgust, he was instead growing nauseous with some sort of desire.

He noticed the enraged look in her eyes, and he knew he had regained the upper hand in their spar. He expectantly took note of her face, her flushed lips, and some forgotten instinct inside him told him to target her there and silence her irritating voice for a moment. He ignored it.

He kept his eyes on her this time, and it lessened the sickness and subdued it. The urge to kill was suppressed and was replaced by a greater desire. He was no longer interested in seeking bloodshed. Now he was interested in bothering her.

"Tell me," he demanded, "What was it you wanted to ask me, but cowered away from speaking?"

"Oh. That." She chuckled awkwardly and glanced away briefly.

He sensed her embarrassment, and he reveled in the fact that he was close to mastering the art of taking advantage of her whenever she was bashful. He reared his head back, giving the impression that he was looking down on her.

"I hope you weren't going to beg me to 'eat' you."

She was shocked by this accusation. "No! I wasn't… I can't believe you of all people said that!"

"I only use vulgarity when it's appropriate. Just as I used you."

"You…! You're such a jerk!"

"Well then, tell me. What did you want? Not that I have any intention of giving it to you. But if you really did want me to 'eat' you, don't bother answering. My answer will be an indefinite no."

She appeared frustrated, blushing, and he was surprised that by speaking perversely, he had managed to embarrass her and render her befuddled, even though she spoke lecherously herself. He made a note to say lewd things more often against her, if only as a last resort in their verbal battles, as a guaranteed win for himself. He would use her own weapon against her.

She tried to hide the nervousness in her voice as she said, "I was going to ask you if you wanted to accompany me to the upcoming party. I just wanted you to, uh… you know. Scare off any potential suitors. Like a bodyguard."

He frowned. He had been expecting her to demand sex from him. And he would probably give it to her eventually if she blurted it out and admitted it. He would gloat about that.

Bulma continued, "If not that, well, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out or something if you're not busy."

"We are already out."

"But it's not the same thing…"

His mind clouded, struggling for clarification, when he remembered something she had said about this sort of thing.

"A date," he said blankly, trying to hide the disgust in his voice.

"Maybe. I guess you could call it that," she said evasively. Of _course_ she meant a date, but she wouldn't say it directly.

He winced a little. "You're saying you're interested in pursuing me."

"Well, even though you're a huge ass, I like you. I've made that clear enough, haven't I?" she reached a hand out toward him and teasingly traced a slender finger along his collarbone, and he did not retaliate, enduring the agony of it. "Is it wrong to be curious to see if there's something more there?"

"I assure you, there is nothing. And you don't need a worthless date to decide compatibility."

"That's how we do it here on Earth, Vegeta." She placed her hands behind her on a shelf, leaning her back against it and narrowing her eyes at him, trying to look as appealing as possible.

He moved closer to her, making her go rigid, and he leaned an arm against the shelf, blocking that route of escape.

He noticed her reaction and a sly smirk spread across his mouth. He enjoyed that he was intimidating to her. "You're attracted to me," he prompted sarcastically, as if it were a big joke to him.

"Well, you're stinky and creepy, but it is pretty difficult for me to keep my hands off your ass," she swallowed, intimidated by his sudden closeness.

He was amused that he was making her nervous now, and at the position she was in, wary of his advancements. His ego soared. Damn right she should be attracted to him. He was the Prince of all Saiyans and soon to reign over the universe. Of course she should want him.

He cackled mockingly, "And you consider having intercourse with me?"

She gasped, and he didn't give her time to answer.

"Who _wouldn't_?" he said, stroking his own ego.

Bulma looped a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling extremely nervous now. "I might not be opposed to something like that happening in, like, five _years_, as long as you bathe regularly. But I'd like to know more about you before anything like that even becomes an option. That's what dates are for." She raised an eyebrow at him, asking, "How do your Saiyan monkey mating rituals go?"

He didn't know. That was one thing he especially disliked about being one of the last Saiyans. He missed out on so many traditions and practices of his people, and customs that his father never had the chance to pass down to him.

Suddenly his good mood drifted off, and he felt that old familiar loneliness take its place.

"Well?" Bulma said, "I know you want to ask me out on a date now. So let's hear it."

He stared at her with renewed curiosity. Could this woman really be interested in him? And why? Even to himself he admitted that he was an evil son of a bitch, he felt for nobody. But this woman was interested in getting to know more about him? Did she even realize that such a thing could put her life at stake?

"How unwise you are," he said low in his throat, then without another word he turned his back on her and quickly stalked away, leaving her stunned and confused.

Then a sound similar to that of a space shuttle lifting off was heard outside the store, so loud it nearly broke the sound barrier and the windows of the building rattled and quivered, followed by a blinding flash of light as Vegeta took off to the sky. Everyone in the store went silent again, before gasps and murmurs of 'what was that?' and 'what just happened?' passed among the shoppers.

Bulma shook her head and groaned, annoyed. But she was more annoyed at herself for blurting out her fledgling crush to Vegeta and making it obvious. _Way to lose the game_, she berated herself.

She finished up the last of her shopping, forcing herself to resist buying a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes and she went over to the checkout lanes. She then spent twenty minutes having to explain to the cashier, a security guard, and the store manager as to why the food in her cart was opened and half-eaten. Much to her annoyance, it caused a big scene. After being identified as the heiress to Capsule Corp, she was let off easy, not even given a warning. But not before a janitor asked for her number, to whom she angrily declined.

As she drove home, she screamed to herself, "That jerk! Who does he think he is, calling me unwise? Hah! He's the one who ran around opening things and smashing toys! _He's_ the idiot!"

His words echoed in her mind, bothering her to no end. Did he think it unwise that she was being cautious and holding off on jumping into a sexual relationship with him, or unwise that she was interested in him? Or did he realize she was interested in a relationship with him beyond just sex, and this was his way of rejecting her?

"I'll bet his ego is at its peak right now," she sorely whined, "Knowing the amazing babe Bulma Briefs thinks he's a catch. Ugh!"

She reached a resolve, "As soon as I get home, I'm going to tell him I was just messing around!" She would only be playing hard to get. She knew she would like to try to see how far she could go with him, and if she could lure him into her bed. Besides, she was growing restless with her monumental desire, and she wanted relief. Vegeta was the ideal candidate for her, no way in hell would she resort to using Yamcha to satisfy herself.

Yet she also hoped for more. She liked being around Vegeta, he was entertaining and fun to tease. She didn't want to be toyed with or end up as a fling, a one-time thing to him. But above all else, she wanted to wrap him around her finger and get him to want her.

She was a little discouraged that he did not seem to acknowledge that she had a crush on him, but she would not let that deter her. She smirked as she thought about sneaky ways to confuse him. "I'll get him to want me more than he wants to become a Super Saiyan!"

* * *

A/N - Admittedly this chapter is way below my standards, but I was stressing + busy, I had to rush and rewrite this so many damn times, and it was a real nuisance. I'll fix everything later when I find the time. Yeah. So. I just needed some kind of excuse to have Vegeta touch his favorite ladeee while being a jerk about it. Using her to his advantage. How romantic.

Oh just a note I should have mentioned early on: how I spell 'Kakarott'… that extra 't' is probably unnecessary, but I think it looks prettier this way.


	17. Chapter 17

Upon arriving back at her home, Bulma unloaded her car and lugged the bags filled with her groceries into the kitchen. She spent several minutes restocking the cupboards and the fridge, knowing the abundance of food would not last long when her Saiyan house guest would likely put it all away in one sitting.

She didn't see Vegeta anywhere in the vicinity, though she did not bother to go looking for him. She wanted him to come to her.

She would have liked the aid of her family's servant bots for preparing the prince's meal (which was what she had done the last time she had cooked food for him, not to his knowledge, and she had taken all the credit), but she didn't want him to know she had cheated and had help prepping his meals, if he were to wander into the kitchen before she was finished.

She began working on his dinner, knowing that he was starving and he would probably come to retrieve his food once it was laid out on the table. Then she would brush off her admittance to him like it had simply been a fickle spark she'd felt, a careless inquisition she had thrown out, and nothing more.

After she had spent five minutes prepping the meal, Vegeta swiftly walked into the room and sat at the table, casually leaning back against his chair and crossing his legs, watching her as he did so.

She pretended not to notice him, hiding a knavish smile from his view. She had been expecting him to avoid her out of disgust, at least until the food was done. But it seemed nothing had changed despite her confession.

How wrong she was. Vegeta could sense the mounting tension in their unconventional acquaintanceship, and now he was curious to find out if Bulma had been truthful on her admittance.

He studied her mannerisms for a minute, watching to see if her movements would betray if she did indeed long for him. She gracefully went on with her work, not showing any signs of being affected by his presence.

"I expect you to accompany me to that human marketplace again in the future," he spoke up.

Bulma was astounded. "You think I'm going to take you there again, after that nightmarish experience?"

Of course he expected to go there again. He had decided it would be good training, to see if he could test his ability to control his instincts and walk among the humans, inhibit his impulse, making him a better strategist and killing machine. It had been unacceptable that he had let his long repressed bloodthirst resurface as he walked among the humans, and he needed to teach himself to keep it under control. He also wanted to test his covert espionage and tactical skill, and see how well he could go on living and thriving among his future subjects.

And on top of it, he could hand pick all the food he wanted, as well as embarrass the hell out of Bulma by misbehaving in public. He thought it would be amusing to knock over a few shelves in the store, blast a hole in the wall or ceiling, and devour even more raw meat right in front of her. He looked forward to seeing the mortified expression on her face.

"Whenever I so much as consider it," he coolly said. "Even if it happens to be in the early hours of the morning, I'll expect you to dutifully answer to me to purchase my food. You will prioritize my needs above all else."

"And you'll prioritize our friendship above everything else, Vegeta," Bulma said without even turning her head to look at him. She heard him respond with a mocking snort.

She tossed a few carrots and potatoes onto the counter, in her mind contemplating how to approach the subject of her crush she had blurted out to him. She sighed, deciding to draw it out in the open.

"You know, about what I said back there," she continued, acting as calm as she could, "I hope you didn't take that seriously. I was only a little curious to see how you'd react, that's all."

"Hn. Just as you had been curious about that freak Zarbon?"

Not ceasing her work, she inquired, "Zarbon?"

"You saw how I ran him through and sent his internal organs flying through the air, didn't you?"

The memory of his brutality was not something she was fond of. She was glad her back was turned to Vegeta, otherwise he would have seen her as she winced. "Oh. Him. I just thought he was a little attractive, that's all. Of course, that was before he turned into that ugly amphibian creature."

"Idiot. You'd do well not to misjudge anyone based on their appearance," Vegeta reprimanded. "You called out to that fool desperately."

"Well, yeah, because I thought he was going to rescue me."

Vegeta grimaced. "_Rescue_ you? Far from it. If you thought I was vicious, you'd need to greet him in hell to see first hand just what he's capable of. Then you'll reconsider your opinion on me. You may even see me as a saint compared to him." He almost laughed at the thought. He was no saint, but he had not been nearly as cruel as Zarbon and the rest of the higher ranking soldiers in Frieza's crew. The extent of their brutality would be beyond unfathomable to this gentle Earth woman.

Bulma sighed through her nose. She didn't turn to face him as she said, "What choice did I have? You weren't exactly the heroic type yourself back then, you were after the Dragon Ball, and you would have killed us for it. I couldn't count on Krillin to fight you off, it's sad to say but he's even weaker than Gohan. I don't think it was so wrong to ask that pretty boy for help."

She smiled awkwardly as she confessed, "I always assumed it would be a dashing guy who would come to my rescue, but I guess I was wrong. I suppose it's just a steryotype in fables for attractive guys to be heroic."

Although that didn't exactly count Vegeta, she considered. She certainly found him to be attractive, but she didn't know if he was still villainous or even capable of heroism. Though he wasn't the most virtuous guy in the world, he had certainly come a long way since he had retired from his life as a mass-murdering planet broker.

"What a foolish misconception," Vegeta snorted. "Though I didn't kill that bastard for your benefit, you ought to be thanking me for taking him out before he could get his hands on you. He would have dealt you a fate worse than what I would have issued to you. I would have been merciful and killed you quickly, but he would have drawn your death out slowly, leaving you begging him to end your suffering."

Bulma cringed at the thought.

Vegeta continued, "You were deceived by his appearance and you put your faith in him to save you. He would not have spared a moment to take advantage of your dependence on him, he would have exploited and crushed you in the palm of his hand."

He knew that if he hadn't slain Zarbon, Frieza's right hand man would have delivered Bulma an agonizing death. Vegeta had on occasion seen how Zarbon executed women. The brute despised and looked down on shrieking females, seeing them as disgusting creatures, and it especially amused him to hear them cry out as he killed them mercilessly.

Vegeta actually felt bitter, remembering that Bulma had naively shown an interest in Zarbon. But the toad was out of the way, and, if she had spoken truly of her feelings, she had her attention on the Saiyan prince now. A smug grin crossed his lips at that realization.

Bulma's unease passed as she said gratefully, "I guess I should be glad you killed him, then, huh?" She glanced over at him for a second as she added, "In a twisted kind of way, you turned out to be my knight in shining armor instead of that guy."

"Feeling anything but hatred for your enemy will lead to your death," Vegeta snidely criticized her, overlooking her gratitude. "You should be wary of me, human. If you grow to like me, your feelings just might contribute to your downfall."

Bulma finally turned to face him fully, looking him straight in the eye. "You're not my enemy, Vegeta. I don't have any enemies, except that creepy old Gero bastard and the androids."

He gave her a dark glare. "You should fear me more than them, woman."

"Hah! Why should I be afraid of _you_?" she brazenly retorted. "Even though it was inadvertently, you saved my life back on Namek, you know! I accredit you as a pretty good guy!"

Vegeta would have responded with a very cruel remark sitting at the edge of his tongue, but an irritating meowling sound reached his ears. Several seconds later, Dr. Briefs' black cat, Scratch, appeared in the kitchen, screaming to be fed.

"Just in time," Vegeta said, eying the cat with interest. "I've always wanted to roast this animal."

"Oh, stop it," Bulma chided. "I know you must be starving, but the food I'm making for you is way better than cooked cat. You can wait a few minutes."

She knelt down and filled a bowl with cat food, yet Scratch didn't seem interested in kibble. The cat stared with mesmerized eyes at Vegeta. The Saiyan smelled a lot more interesting to the feline, a smell like death and fresh wounds. And Scratch knew well that where there was the smell of bloodshed, there was likely a fresh kill nearby. She favored the taste of fresh meat, no matter the animal it came from.

Vegeta glared down at the little black ball of fur that was steadily making its way up his lap. He turned his eyes away from the animal, ignoring its very existence, staring at Bulma instead.

"You'd better be careful," Bulma warned him. "She's named Scratch for a reason."

Only a second later, Vegeta found out why. The cat swiped its paw out, batting the Saiyan on his forearm, leaving an impressive two-inch long cut across his skin. Normally, he would have evaded such an attack, but the cat had only managed to scratch him because his attention had not been on the animal. It was on Bulma.

With a building fury in his eyes, Vegeta aimed his palm at the cat and began charging a blast. Scratch responded by leaping away from him and hissing, arching her back in preparation for battle.

"Vegeta!" Bulma yelled, "Could you be patient and wait for me to finish your dinner, before you resort to frying my dad's cat?"

Scratch pranced off, disappearing from the kitchen to hide somewhere safe before Vegeta could blast the feline. He grimaced, but he allowed the ki to dissipate from his hand.

"Do you have to respond to every situation in a violent manner?" Bulma scorned.

"Tell that to your pet. That thing clawed at me unprovoked!"

"She wouldn't have scratched you if you weren't scowling at her!"

"I was scowling at _you_, moron. I wanted to find out if I could bore holes into your flesh with my eyes." He glared at her appropriately, and to his delight, Bulma cringed again, afraid she would soon feel her skin burning.

As he continued to glare at her, she instead felt her skin tingling with a different feeling - embarrassment. Knowing her argument was growing invalid and feeling her face burning hot, Bulma bit at her cheek and remained silent, turning her attention away from Vegeta as she resumed her work.

He could sense the uncertainty rising in her little by little, and he knew this was a good chance to approach and interrogate her. His curiosity could not go unsatisfied. He had to find out now if she had spoken the truth on her feelings.

He got up from his seat and crossed the room, heading for her. She stiffened a bit when he leaned on the counter to her immediate left, the distance between them only seven inches. She went on with fixing up his dinner, trying not to be unsettled by his proximity.

He observed her, noticing that she was growing slightly more anxious now that he was much closer, and he was surprised at how worked up she was. His confidence peaked, and a satisfied grin crossed his lips. He knew his suspicion had been right. She was amorous for him. Any doubt he may have had faded at the realization, knowing that she would likely not retaliate if he ever wanted to use her for more than just her mechanical skills. If he wanted to use her body to fulfill his primal needs, she might not be opposed to it.

And now he had a weapon to use in their little verbal war, an ace up his sleeve. Now he could really mess with her and make her angry.

"I know what you want now," he began, his tone brimming with sinister pride.

"Oh?" she carefully asked without taking her eyes off her work, "And what do I want?"

He leaned closer to her and slowly said, "Who else could you want other than the Prince of all Saiyans? I can't say I blame you."

Trying hard to not let her intimidation show, Bulma swallowed, but she could form no clever response against him. She couldn't really deny that she wanted him, and not just for a date. She pursed her lip, attempting to mask the heated blush spreading on her cheeks.

Her rare silence made him feel elated, and with it he received his answer. This woman wanted him. And this he would have to rub in her face. Smear it, even. It was in his nature to be manipulative, and he wanted to see if she would back away or retort against his challenge.

"You're a foolish woman. You know I'll only use your desire as a way to torture you."

"Oh really? What are you going to do, try to mock my feelings?" Her uneasiness faded as it was replaced with her usual sassy bite to her words, "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I was only joking about having a crush on you."

As she began dicing a tomato, he carelessly slid his fingers across her arm. Immediately she dropped the knife as she trembled.

"You call that reaction a joke?" He would have laughed, but he didn't want his amusement to spoil the advantage he held over her. He continued interrogating her with a vindictive tone to his voice, "Were you shuddering with fear? Or anticipation, looking forward to what I'll do next?"

"What, are you going to do something naughty?" she said, her voice bordering on nervous as she tried to keep her composure. "Or are you going to try to give me a kiss?"

He frowned. "Of course not. I would never even consider it." He would have liked to add, _However, I may think about stuffing your mouth with something else, _but he didn't want her to know that her lecherous influence was beginning to rub off on him.

Bulma humphed, mildly disappointed that he didn't seem to want to at least kiss her, and she bitterly resumed her work, no longer caring that he was hovering so close to her. He continued to watch her, not moving away even by a centimeter. He was still only inches away from her, but the tension on her part eased a bit now that she was angry.

Vegeta's expression hardened into a scowl as he stared at her face, his eyes drifting over to her mouth. Though she was very alluring, he couldn't picture himself kissing her at all. He had seen these humans slobber all over each other, it was loud, and frankly it looked sickening. He didn't want to partake in something so hideous looking.

Unluckily, this woman seemed to enjoy the act, as she had sneaked several of her kisses onto him already, much to his displeasure. If he was going to allow her to have an acquaintanceship with him, would she expect to routinely get away with that often? He didn't actually care if she did it, hell, even if she kissed him on the mouth he wouldn't get too upset about it. He would let her get away with it without killing her. But if she was expecting him to reciprocate and kiss her back… He couldn't do it.

First of all, he had no experience with affection, though he was sure that because he was the Prince of Saiyans and therefore able to adapt at anything and have the potential to master any skill in no time, if he wanted to, he would be more than adequate at it. Probably much better than Yamcha.

But more importantly, he didn't want her to think he was growing soft by allowing her that sort of access and control over him, that he would give her the affection she wanted. And he didn't want her to know he was just a little fond of her. Not yet, anyway. Not until he was ready to drag her into his bed and make her please him.

He watched her as she picked up where she'd left off with her work, brushing the tomatoes aside on the countertop and reaching for a few leafy green vegetables. He was considering what he should do to torture her.

Why not make an exception today, just to be extra mean? He'd already touched her, and by her reaction he was certain that any advancements he would make would not go unwanted. She probably wished for him to fondle her or go all the way. If that was the case, he would have to purposely hold back from doing anything more than touching her in order to be cruel to her and drive her insane.

He was certain that screwing her would be inevitable in the future, but though he was slipping and thinking of getting it done and over with, he would only allow her to blow him, then he would bother with everything else one the androids and Goku were dealt with. That way, if she got knocked up, it wouldn't be the androids who would decide the fate of his half-breed spawn. It would be him.

He studied her face as she peeled kale leaves from their stems. She didn't seem to be too pleased, her eyebrows arched down as she roughly pulled the leaves apart. He shifted a little closer to her, but she overlooked his movement. She was stubbornly trying to ignore him. She was currently on edge, a bit submissive, and for once it seemed he had her in his grasp.

This highly desired woman was now intimidated by him. Having her under his thumb didn't feel bad at all. This felt almost as good as winning a battle, and now he would not spare any time taking the opportunity to tip the scale of their battle in his favor. He would be more or less trying out his theory on how much he could make her wilt, but judging from how she had reacted to his fingers on her arm, he anticipated her knees to buckle and for her to fall to the floor helplessly. In that event, he would burst out laughing.

He would have to do something to make her have her full attention on him. He wanted to test his control over her, and find out exactly how responsive she would be to his advancements. His eyes roved over her body as he considered what to do. He would have to do something to generate a strong reaction out of her.

He shrugged himself away from his spot on the counter and paced around her until he was standing directly behind her, putting her in a vulnerable position. She didn't have time to draw in a full breath when he roughly pushed his chest against her back, crushing her into the counter. She stiffened and would have yelped in shock, only her throat tightened and she could not find her voice to retaliate. How could she, when she was instantly afraid of him at that moment?

He had to levitate a few inches off the ground to lean over her shoulders. He had realized early on, to his dismay, that he was shorter than her by one or two inches (not counting his hair), and one thing he loved more than winning a battle was looking down on his opponents.

Her, however, he could never look down on, not literally or metaphorically. He acknowledged and accepted that, though discontentedly.

Bulma could feel his heartbeat against her back, it was slow and his body felt cold, he was not at all riled up like she was. She was cramped and uncomfortable, he was breathing down her neck and making her hair stand on edge, and she felt a quick shudder of dread. No, this was definitely not the romance of her fairytales.

She tried to move away, but he was quick to intercept her path by blocking her with his arms, his hands against the counter on either side of her, trapping and locking her against his chest. He would give her no chance to escape, especially not when he finally had the advantage over her.

She was shocked at how his assertion generated this kind of reaction out of her, making her suddenly very intimidated and fearful. She was not used to being treated this way, far from it.

But it instantly turned her on.

He would have been aroused at this point as well, but after the incident in his closet, how her squirming paired with her fearlessness had made him go hard, he had spent some time mastering self control, and he did not worry about getting a hard-on around her.

Unless she was stripped naked, of course.

He cringed a bit as he tried to deter himself from thinking of those things, otherwise he would go stiff immediately.

Craning his head to look over her shoulder, trying hard to avoid looking at her chest, he looked down at her hands. He saw that her fingers were shaking violently. He could now see that she was wary and uncertain of him, and quite fearful, but he could sense that she was struggling to keep her fear under control.

He was surprised that she was enduring his advancement and didn't shriek at the top of her lungs, but it was just as he would expect from this brave woman. She was giving off mixed feelings, afraid of him, but intrigued, overlooking her fear to see what his intentions were. This was just the reaction he wanted out of her.

Against her neck he husked, "You do realize I'm saving myself the pleasure of killing you for later, don't you? As soon as I'm done with this planet, I will not hesitate to destroy you."

She trembled again, but the constraint gripping her deep in her chest hindered her from speaking as her cardiovascular system went into overdrive. Her pulse bordered on agonizing as her heart struggled to prepare her to take flight and run for her life, or melt under his touch and allow him to do with her as he pleased. Her heart stirred painfully, all in response to this cruel man breathing down her neck.

She felt the cool chill of his slow and even breath close to her shoulder, and she could almost feel his gloating smirk when he said, "But for now, I'm going to get as much out of you as I can. And because you've self-appointed yourself as my servant, you are to not disobey or question my demands," he smiled wickedly and added, "_friend_."

She was rendered speechless. She swayed a little as blood rushed to her head, her face burning hot. The warmth of her stirring blood rushed through her neck and spread down to her arms, and she unconsciously lifted her shoulders closer to her neck and held her breath in. Was this the scary homicidal Vegeta resurfacing? For a moment she feared he would force himself on her, or otherwise kill her.

She looked at his arms on either side of her against the counter, before glancing down at his hands. They were clenched, like he was about to slug her, or as if he was restraining himself from feeling her up.

She swallowed again, trying to dislodge the nervousness building in her throat as she willed herself to look over her shoulder at him, trying to see what he was about to do. Her eyes darted up to meet his own. His usual intense stare darkened and was accusatory as he held his eyes on hers.

From this angle she could see his features closely. He a chilling man with a hilarious hairstyle, but he was pretty damn handsome with that look on his face. It only served to escalate the pounding in her chest.

She shook again for the briefest second. She didn't know if she should be afraid of him, or start flirting with him.

"I didn't tell you to get those disgusting things," he said, leaning over her and observing what she had been working on.

She was finding it to be difficult for her to speak with her wavering voice, but she forced herself to ask with uncertainty, "Kale?"

"No. Your berries, dumbass."

She remembered the strawberries on the end of the counter. She'd had to buy some imported at the store, because the strawberries in her garden were not in season. She couldn't even go one week without snacking on at least a dozen strawberries, though she didn't like resorting to buying them from the store to satisfy her craving.

"I will never eat one of those things," Vegeta said, the frown in his tone almost tangible.

"Why not?" her voice broke into a whine.

"Because you like them."

What a mean thing to say! She quickly considered sneaking a few mashed up strawberries into his food, but he was likely to notice with his heightened senses.

He craned his head closer to her neck, his nose almost touching her skin. "Do you want to know what you smell like now?" he said grimly. "I can smell your fear. The stench of it is all over you."

"Like I'm afraid of you!" she half lied. "That'll be the day!"

"Really. Why don't we find out if what you're speaking is true?"

He was hardly in control of his actions, but he did not restrain himself. Repressed instincts kicked in and he used them to his advantage.

He maneuvered himself lower, yet still managing to restrain her against the counter, and he drew in the scent of her upper back and shoulders, making her cringe. Just as he suspected, the lewd woman, though fearful, was turned on. But this time he indulged in the odor, because now her vulgarity was for him.

Bulma's eyes widened and she recoiled from him a little, her lips locked together, but behind them she was clenching her molars hard, worried her teeth would break at the pressure she was applying with her jaw clamped down on them. Sweat trickled from her hairline and ran down her cheek.

Why the hell was he smelling her? Her heart quickened nervously, and she was left wondering if he was testing to see how good her corpse would smell before he would roast her alive, or find something equally brutal to do to her.

She thought about how he would like it if she smelled him... but then she frowned at the thought. She would probably smell his stinky body odor.

Some of her uncertainty and discomfort faded away as she was amused at her imaginings, and she had to conceal an amused snort in her chest.

But her dread came back swiftly when he drew his head up and glared at her.

He moved away and released her at last, returning to his spot on the counter next to her, leaning his back against it as he glared into her eyes.

He gave her a once over, eying every part of her body with interest, then he laughed in her face. "I see. You fear me, but your body is especially fertile when in my presence. Your vulgarity astounds me."

Just below her eye, a muscle twitched. With a sheepish look on her face, she replied, "Are you saying I want you?"

"You've unknowingly made that clear enough with your behavior," he was visibly gloating as he cackled, "And right now, you're in heat in response to me. You can't mask that odor."

She couldn't deny that he had driven her into desire, but he could actually _smell _it? She was beyond mortified. What did that smell like to him? Did it disgust him? She knew she couldn't weasel her way out of answering to this, not when she was up against the unpredictable and scary Vegeta. She chose to remain silent again, but she bit at her lip and wished she could run off and hide in her bedroom in shame, or drag him in there with her.

She noticed that he didn't seem phased or horrified that she was turned on because of him, which she found odd. A very mean smirk was playing on his lips. His face wore the expression of a bully who had the upper hand and was aware of the clear advantage he held over her. It appeared he was no longer afraid of her lewdness.

He was more than satisfied. He had gotten his answer to how she felt around him - intimidation when he was very close to her, yet she felt desire, 'I want you' was written on every inch of her body and through the frantic breaths she took in, and on the scent drifting from her skin. Now he could freely tease her and drive her insane with longing for him if he so much as touched her. And the fact that she wanted him was a feat he marveled at.

This could be his assured win in their little verbal battle. He had discovered her weakness, and he would use it against her. He currently held the advantage, and he couldn't wait until he won the war. And he hoped that victory would come in the form of her giving him a blow job.

All confidence gone, Bulma looked at him, embarrassment and horror portrayed on her blushing features as she forced herself to ask, "You can actually smell me?"

"I could pick your particular reeking odor out in a crowded room with my eyes shut. Yes, I can smell you."

"That's not what I…" she sighed and looked back at the vegetables on the counter. She couldn't just blatantly ask him if he could smell that she was turned on. Instead she asked, "What do I smell like?"

He couldn't describe her smell, only that it was mouth-watering. But like hell he'd ever tell her such a thing.

He reached his arm out in front of her and grabbed one of the store brand strawberries, looking at it with disgust. It wasn't what her human scent was like, but she ate the berries frequently and unknowingly wore the scent on her.

"Often, this," he responded, and with the strawberry in his hand he squeezed the fruit between his fingers and crushed it into chunky little bits.

"You ass! I paid good money for those!" Bulma yelled.

He laughed again, which to his delight made her angrier. She spun away from him and went back to work on the food, pulling stocks of broccoli apart and hoping Vegeta would go away, lest she would rip his head off. Or his clothes.

He did not leave, but he continued to watch her. There was an emotion in her that he sensed stirring, which he could tell she was trying to suppress and hide from him. It was vague and a feeling he was still not familiar with, but he had a theory as to what it could be - that disgusting human emotion she referred to as 'love'.

Though it made him just slightly uncomfortable and nauseous to fathom that she might have _those_ strong feelings for him, he expected her to not just like him. He would prefer for her to think of him all the time, that way she would make his upgrades a priority. He expected everything she did to be in his benefit.

If she did feel love for him, it would sicken him a little, but so be it. But he had no intentions of returning her love, for all he cared she should be thankful that he didn't choose to blast her on the spot.

He said to her, "For me, I take it you harbor that idiotic human affliction you call love. Tell me, how could you bring yourself to feel something like that for a notorious mass-murderer? If your intention was to disgust me, you've succeeded."

She glared at him, noting the cruelly amused look growing in his eyes. He was _so_ mean!

_He looks like he's enjoying himself __thoroughly__! _Bulma thought dejectedly, having to stifle a whimper. She hated that he was jeering at her, accusing her of feeling love for him, of all things!

But she suspected as much, too. Maybe not genuine, pure love, not yet. But if given some time, and especially with the way he was making her feel now with that look on his face...

She immediately denied that stirring in her chest and assumed it was simply her nervousness paired with lust.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but though you're _kind of_ cute, I'm not going to pursue you or anything!" she said.

She grabbed a bundle of carrots and proceeded to tear the stems off, but Vegeta snatched the carrots from her and tossed them to the floor. He would never eat a single carrot in his life.

Bulma would have spun around and given him a furious bitching, but he stepped closer to her again. She sucked her breath in for what had to be the fifth time.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when I deny you. And with that denial, I will instill in you a feeling of hopelessness," he said. "I'll make you _beg_ for me."

"Only in your wet dreams! If anything like that were to happen, it'll be you who'll pursue me and beg me!"

"You think I would lower myself to your level?" With a dark grin he thought, _When that happens, I won't come begging for it… I'll demand it!_

"For me, you'll do anything, even at the cost of your ego," she gleamed, "Because you're my friend!"

"Hah. It's you who'll be doing everything and anything for me, not the other way around. Don't forget it, servant."

"You're still calling me your servant, huh? When are you going to promote me to friend? And in time, you'll try to call me your girlfriend!"

He got right in her face and said, "Prove your worth."

She shivered, but she brazenly asked, "Is that a yes?"

He finally leaned away, letting her reclaim her personal space as he sneered, "You don't know how much I enjoy getting your hopes up with my false promises, only to crush them when I say no."

Though relieved, Bulma felt disheartened. "And my answer is no," she said, trying to hide the hurt in her voice, "To your earlier statement about me obeying you. I'm not doing as you say.

"Try me." He narrowed his eyes and as lasciviously as he could he ground out, "You won't be saying no to everything I do to you."

"Oh yeah? _Try me_, jerk," she said, but all strength in her voice was gone. She shook with both fear and anticipation.

He moved away from the counter, walking passed her, but he stopped and leaned close to her ear, making her shudder and lose what little strength she had left.

He muttered, "I'll teach you the meaning of savage. But to get the point across to someone like you, I might have no choice but to apply it to your vulgar terms." In other words, he would screw her roughly.

He then turned away from her and proudly stalked out of the room, letting his words sink in, hoping that his promise to do impure things to her would terrify her.

When he had been gone for a minute, Bulma released the tension in her body, sighing with relief.

She was not horrified, not greatly. But she wondered if that had been some sort of innuendo he had used. He was so quick to learn just what to insinuate to leave her speechless. She was more intrigued, surprised at how impulsive he was becoming, and how he had managed to make her weak. Never had anyone made her feel so intimidated and light-headed.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she was utterly uncertain as to what she should do to win this man over. She worried anything she could try would backfire, now that his confidence around her had doubled and he didn't seem to be afraid of touching her. She worried that if he really wanted to, he could probably manipulate her and get her to crawl into his bed, and make her plead with him to relieve her. She didn't want to lose face in that event.

He was not easy to read, she couldn't tell if he was teasing her, or if he really did have an interest in her. Fear of rejection dwelled at the front of her mind. He hadn't outright denied her, but denial was something she didn't handle well. She was used to getting men to fawn over her.

And especially now that she admittedly had a crush on him, if he denied her now, it would be very difficult for her to cope with that. He was a prince, and she expected to be pursued by royalty.

She wasn't the type to give up. She would have to be persistent. She wasn't supposed to feel this way, uncertain and worried about being rejected. She was supposed to win, she was supposed to make him come to her! There was no way she would beg him to give her what she wanted, not if she could find a way to take it.

Scratch pranced back into the kitchen now that the danger was gone, and she began eating her kibble, though wishing she could feast on a fresh kill. After taking a few bites, she looked up from her bowl and meowled at the heiress.

Bulma groaned, speaking her mind to the animal, "You're not the only one aggravated by that jerk."

He certainly did aggravate the hell out of her. She didn't know what his intentions were, if he was just being mean, or if he was trying to hint that he was interested in her.

Had he been hitting on her or something? She couldn't really tell. He was so difficult. Most likely he had only been torturing and antagonizing her. It would not surprise her at all if that was the case. He was so calculating and cruel.

And yet she liked that about him. He wasn't simply 'kind of' cute, but now to her he was becoming much more desirable. His charm was dark and sinister, but she could not help but want to reel him in. She admitted to herself that she would like to see if a relationship with him could work, but with someone like him, that demanded time, patience, and endurance. She would have to see how long she could last.

At first she had assumed she would be the winner in this game, but now there was no clear victor. It would only be a matter of time before she would find out who would be pursuing who.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N – obligatory INB4: the many flaws :'D Oddly this sort of fluff or what have you/transition chapters are really hard for me to write. However, I promise the next couple of updates will be much better in content~

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The day before the Capsule Corp party found Vegeta in the infirmary once again. He had gotten in some good training that day but, much to his annoyance, he had been completely distracted by foolish thoughts not relevant to his training, and his inattentiveness resulted in him severely injuring himself. It was all because he had been thinking of other things occupying his life so intrusively.

Specifically, he had been thinking of that irritating blue-haired menace. Bulma.

"I didn't think you'd let yourself get hurt like this again," the voice of the serpent woman came from somewhere off to his right. She was sitting next to his bed, her mesmerizing blue eyes on his own, and for a moment his negative thoughts drifted away as he lost himself under her unwavering gaze.

He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but the pain that shot though him was too great.

"It looks like your petty upgrade to those machines proved futile," he said between groans of pain. "They weren't resistant enough!"

Bulma frowned at his criticizing words. "After training under almost 600Gs for a while now, it's only natural you'd be able to take them out quickly." Still, she had been expecting her newly upgraded training bots to withstand the Saiyan's attacks, but he had proven her wrong. As usual.

She moped, "Damn it. I was sure the bots'd be indestructible this time. But look at the state you're in as a result, getting hit by the shrapnel. You should have been more careful!"

Normally he would not have succumbed to being injured by the debris from the destroyed bots, but his attention had been diverted to thoughts of her. He'd been thinking of mean things he could do to harass and infuriate her in order to incite her into bickering with him. And of how else he could drive her crazy with furious desire for him.

He had just for one second glanced at the intercom, almost anticipating for her face to flash onto the screen as she would yell at him about overdoing it or something equally trivial and worthless, and he would tune her screeching out and stare at her angry face. In that one second, he didn't notice the rebounding bits of metal flying toward him from the bot he had destroyed.

He easily blamed her for the sorry state he was in.

Bulma looked over his bandaged wounds before she conclusively said, "You need to get some rest. Call it a day."

"Those androids would agree with you," he interjected, "I'm sure by now you're aware that I'm the only one capable of taking on those flea-market machines, so don't tell me I need to rest based on your misguided judgment. You should be begging me to get out of this crypt to train despite my injuries!"

Bulma only shrugged and continued patching up the last of his wounds, while he stared at her suspiciously.

Over the past few days, he had been questioning everything she did for him. Was she only gratuitously kind to him because he was a prince? Or was it because she was trying to convert him to join the Earthlings' side so he wouldn't kill them?

There was the slight chance that she really did like him and she was kind to him selflessly… but the likelihood of that was slim at best. He was unlikable, and proud of it. But consequentially that contributed to his loneliness, which he despised. He could not understand the feelings of longing for another's company, even if it meant settling for this brash Earth woman who continually challenged him.

He continued to eye the woman distrustfully, but his suspicion was immediately replaced with discomfort as he inspected her outfit. It was the middle of winter. The heater had been on in the compound all day, and Bulma was wearing a strapless tube top, not unlike the kind her annoying mother always wore. The grumpy Saiyan's eyes roved over her bare shoulders before landing on her chest, which he noticed had way too much bounce to it. That chest of hers proved to be incredibly distracting.

That sickly feeling in his stomach returned, and his temperature began rising to the point that he was almost sweating. He feared he would be pitching a tent under his bed sheets in no time. And if she saw, he would be left with two options - endure her harassing taunts, or he would have to save face and command her to relieve him through a blowjob.

Once again he was glad that this woman had a weak sense of smell, otherwise she would know he was interested in her, at least physically. It seemed so ridiculous and laughable that she had weak senses, it was almost unfathomable.

"You really can't smell it at all, can you?" he said.

Bulma lifted her eyes from her work, giving him a questioning look. "What?"

"My unique scent. That of an upper-class Saiyan."

"Well, I know I can smell something like wet dog whenever you skip out on bathing, some serious B.O., and you're a little sweaty and bloody right now…"

"Not _that_."

"What, do you have some monkey smell your body naturally gives off to mark your territory? Come to think of it, you Saiyans have a better sense of smell than us, so I probably can't catch a whiff of anything other than your stinkiness."

He snorted, not entirely convinced. "I can pick up your stench just fine, but you can't smell me."

"Yeah, I guess. Sucks to be human, doesn't it? Lucky you," she was a little jealous that he had such outstanding senses. But then again, she was sure she could probably just invent some machine that could heighten the human sense of smell. Not that she particularly wanted to go through all that effort, and besides, with an invention like that, other unpleasant odors would be heightened as well.

This worked in Vegeta's favor perfectly. If she was able to smell him right now, she would know just how much he would like to force her on the bed, a dead giveaway with his hormones flaring wildly in response to her. Poor underdeveloped Earthlings, indeed.

The Saiyans had developed a heightened sense of smell and aromatic pheromones because the species had a breeding flaw. They didn't always actively pursue one another due to their stubbornness and love for war, and they preferred battle over companionship. In order to keep their species from going extinct, they had evolved and developed a very appealing aroma to draw their partners in, a smell much more enticing than food, and it acted as an aphrodisiac. The strongest of their kind smelled particularly alluring, as long as they bathed regularly. The weakest of their kind didn't smell much at all, or otherwise were malodorous.

Though it was a pity that she couldn't smell his particular elite Saiyan aroma. Being of the highest class, he was the best of his kind, and his parents and members of the council had always praised him on his unique scent. Vegeta was proud of everything about his Saiyan heritage, and he wanted this human to know that he smelled pretty damn good. He liked showing off and leaving her amazed. Too bad she had weak human senses.

He remembered the day she had given him that hideous pink shirt. She'd said he smelled bad, and he had felt incredibly insulted, and after that incident he went out of his way to bathe much more often. He almost felt the need to redeem himself. He was also curious to see if she would respond to his pheromones. If she could smell his offensive body odor, surely she could at the very least faintly detect his natural Saiyan odor?

"Look," he shoved his wrist in front of her face, "It should be potent here. Even your weak nose should pick it up, unless my scent is masked by the smell of blood. Go ahead, satisfy your irritating curiosity."

She frowned, but her curiosity got the best of her, so she didn't bark out any insults. She leaned close and very slowly inhaled, taking a long, deep breath. Vegeta had to hold his own breath, not wanting to catch a whiff of her at such a close proximity.

She pulled away very quickly, her eyes wide with surprise at the faint trace of what she had breathed in. It was an inviting smell, sharp, and very alpha male. She couldn't quite place what it was, but it was similar to warm cloves and patchouli. She was intrigued.

"It's not awful," she commented, carefully holding back her astonishment. "You should keep up the bathing routine. You're like a living and breathing air freshener."

He sat back further into the bed, looking very smug and pleased with himself. It felt so rewarding to show off to her.

He was in a good mood now, gloating and feeling more talkative. "You can't smell that Kakarott fool either, then?" He chuckled darkly, "How lucky for you."

"But you can?"

He gave a slow nod, a frown on his face. Bulma didn't know if she should laugh at his expression.

"What does he smell like?" she asked. By the look on Vegeta's face, she suspected that Goku probably did not smell pleasant.

"He's a third class. His stench is not remarkable, especially compared to mine. Do you know what a rotting corpse smells like?" he seemed cruelly amused now.

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

He gave a mocking snort, "No. He smells like some sort of shrub, or soil. A forgettable odor. Nothing special at all."

_So then why is that lousy bastard stronger than me? _he thought spitefully.

"Well, he does live at Mount Paozu, and he spends a lot of time running around outdoors."

"That would hardly affect his stench. No, he was born smelling of dirt."

Bulma rubbed a finger under her nose as she admitted, "You know, I once had a thing for Goku."

Vegeta's expression soured.

"Hey, don't be jealous. I steered myself away from that potential disaster on reminding myself of his lacking intelligence. The crush lasted for not even a day!" Bulma jeered, "And I knew him when he was a stinky little kid. I can never get that image of him out of my head."

She smiled knavishly, adding, "You're much cuter than him, anyway."

He pulled a face, by now accustomed to hiding his ashamed blush from her. He wished she wouldn't praise him like that. It wasn't that he didn't like receiving flattery; it was that he was beginning to enjoy it too much, especially because she was the one who was saying it. He wanted her to simply cut to the chase and beg him to screw her.

"I almost killed Goku when I met him."

"You _what?_!" he exclaimed, astonished at what he had just heard.

"Yeah. I almost turned him into road kill and smeared his body across the road. Then he literally went ape-shit and tried to attack me, so I shot him in the head, though obviously that didn't do any good. His skull must be really thick."

Vegeta stared at her with newfound amazement. This weak little woman had once almost killed Kakarott, his sworn enemy? If he had been comfortable with and admired her before, he easily respected her now after hearing this. She seemed very much like a Saiyan, even more than Goku. It was the Saiyan way to try to kill someone you first met.

Rather than hailing her though, he scoffed, "Kakarott was weak as an infant, which was why he was sent to this backwater planet. And that explains how you almost managed to kill him."

"Yeah right. You know you're in love with me now that you know I almost killed your rival," she nudged him with her elbow, before she resumed her work.

It wasn't love, but he felt something for her that he could only identify along the lines of adoration. Suddenly she seemed so much more appealing and impressive in his eyes now. Now as he was seeing her in a new light, he found himself unable to look away.

That disgusting feeling of longing was returning. He'd stuck by his resolve that the hunger could not be satisfied until he took care of his other priorities of eradicating the androids and Goku. But with the way she was enticing him, and now that he had learned of her Saiyan-like savagery, he knew that satisfying his yearning would have to come sooner than that.

He decided he would reward himself with it right after he became a Super Saiyan, as a sort of botched celebration.

Bulma leaned over him to patch up a wound on his left shoulder. Vegeta stiffened, immediately thinking of pushing her head down and making her blow him right here and now. He wondered if she would be opposed to that. Or at least to giving him a hand job. He watched her as she bandaged his wound with her quick hands, and he marveled at the possibilities of what she could do with those hands.

He felt the hair rising on the back of his neck as he thought of lewd things. This carnal need was a weakness. The fact that she had so far exploited him and influenced him into considering lecherous acts exemplified in his mind that she had taken advantage of his awkwardness around her. He would need to reprimand her of that.

The anticipation was building and squirming inside him. He especially wanted this woman now that he knew of how she had nearly killed Goku. Nothing was sexier than a woman who had not hesitated to draw a gun on his rival.

Bulma noticed him tense up. "What's wrong? You're sweating." Then she beamed, her mouth stretching into a grin, "Are you blushing?"

Vegeta defended himself with an enraged roar, "It's that heater! Turn it off"

Bulma smirked knowingly. She had purposely turned the heater up a little higher earlier that day as an excuse to wear more flattering clothes around him.

He turned his head away from her, pretending she didn't exist, while she continued to stare at him.

Sometimes as he looked off in the distance, thinking about something, she guessed, he wore a pained expression on his face. He might not have realized it, but though masked by his usual scowl, Bulma had grown to recognize the slight way the muscles beneath his eyes scrunched up.

He was reserved, unkind, and had been dealt an unfair life of servitude, which had only inflated his ego now that he was free. He felt he deserved everything. But though his upbringing had been different from hers, he had a sense of entitlement that perfectly matched her own.

They came from two completely different backgrounds. She had lived comfortably and was handed everything she had ever wanted, but on his end of the spectrum he had to work hard and tirelessly to reach his goals, all while he lived a life of fear and pain. He'd never known what it was like to be cared for.

She felt sorry for him as she looked over his many wounds. She wanted to give this cold bastard a hug and show him that not all physical contact was painful.

Immediately he stiffened and brought his shoulders higher as her slender arms found themselves around him. She put an arm across his chest, pressing herself into his bicep, her hand squeezing the opposite shoulder. He tried to lean away, but to no avail.

He did not retaliate, getting the feel of this awful physical contact. It wasn't all that bad, and that was what annoyed him above all else. He felt his body temperature rise to an uncomfortable level and something similar to nausea building in his gut. It was some sort of emotional response that he couldn't control. It was one of the oddest feelings he'd ever experienced. There was an irritating stinging sensation prickling his chest, like a painful rash.

He had to fight the instinct that told him that this physical closeness was hostile, telling himself she wasn't trying to squeeze him to death.

He kept his face turned away from her, but he could still see her through his peripheral vision, and he could tell she was wearing that irritating gloating look on her face. Damned woman seemed to not respect his personal space at all.

"This doesn't feel so bad, now does it?" Bulma spoke softly.

"It's not bad. It's unbearable! Get off!"

"Why should I? You hugged me before, even if it was a frightening experience for me! This shouldn't bother you."

"I did not hug you! I was threatening you!"

"Yeah right! You totally hugged me! And from behind!"

His temperature bordered on sweltering. He was both humiliated and enraged. How could she casually bring that up as if it had not fazed her?

She finally drew away from him. At the loss of contact from her skin, he oddly felt disappointed.

"I was only patching up a bruise on your back!" she lied, nudging his thigh for good measure, and he cringed at her touch.

"Your lies are pathetic, just like your existence."

"You're pathetic for not knowing how to show your generosity! Aren't you glad you have me in your life?"

"If anything, I am resentful."

She frowned and stood to return the medical supplies to the cabinet at the far end of the room. With her back turned to him, Vegeta made a sickened face and looked down. Sure enough, he could see he was pitching a fine tent under his sheets.

There was no way he would be able to hide this or make a hasty retreat without triggering her suspicion, so he simply laid down on his side, his back turned to her. "Leave immediately," he commanded.

"Gladly!" Bulma humphed, uncourteously shoving the bandages in the cabinet. She then stalked back over to the bed, standing above it and staring down at the grumpy Saiyan.

"Don't forget, the party's tomorrow. I'm obligated to go, but you're free to show up if you want some food, as long as you don't misbehave," she said.

"Do I need a daily reminder of something of no importance to me? I'll be sure to spend my day avoiding you all." He thought about exploring the planet a bit. Maybe he could get in some good training through hunting a few wild beasts.

Before she left, she playfully knelt close to him and traced her fingers over his shoulders. If his back had not been turned, she would have seen him grimace.

Damn this nasty, alluring, evil woman for making him feel this way.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N- way long chapter (it's over 9000 words ahah), and it's a lot to ingest in one sitting. I would have split this into two separate updates, but I found there was absolutely no way I could do that without destroying the pace. Or something. So yes.

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Her feet were beginning to ache after she had spent the majority of the day stalking around the house in her expensive stilettos. She swiped a fresh layer of lipstick over her lips with one lazy and unenthusiastic roll of her wrist, looking back at her perfect reflection and groaning.

She had to attend the party, much to her chagrin. For her pretty face and her intelligence her father often left her in charge of public relations for the company, and very often her looks helped the business. But she hated dealing with clients and business partners. She was good with machines, not people.

She entered the first floor garden where the party would be held in several minutes. The entire area was littered with Christmas decorations, and Bulma had to laugh at the flamboyant display.

_Yeah. Vegeta's definitely not going to show up_, she mused. She almost felt disheartened, but then again she could always pester him on any other occasion. After all, he was soon going to become her friend.

She came across her mother who was laying trays of cakes and cookies out on a table. The heiress inquired, "Hey mom. You haven't seen Vegeta at all today, have you?"

Bunny placed her delicate manicured fingers on her cheek, not realizing that she had just smeared cake frosting on her face. "Sorry, sweetie, but I haven't seen the young man." She took notice of her daughter's vibrant red dress, which showed a good amount of skin. Bunny giggled, "What, are you going to try to get the man to drink a martini so you two can cuddle on the sofa?"

Bulma's face burned almost as red as her dress. "Quit it! We don't have that kind of relationship, not yet, anyway!"

Bunny squealed delightedly, "Oh? Are you interested in that fine young man now? It's about time!"

Bulma shot her mother a mortified expression. "About time? Come on, have you been expecting me to fall for him or something?" But she mumbled almost incoherently, admitting, "Well… I kind of think he's, I don't know, cute I guess. Don't tell dad. He's afraid of Vegeta."

Bunny was elated at hearing this. "He is _so_ handsome. I would like my grandchildren to look like him!"

"MOM! I haven't even held hands with him, and you want me to have his kids?"

"Yes, of course! That would be so nice!"

Bulma pulled a sour face, fussing something about her mother being an airhead as Dr. Briefs lazily rode into the garden on his bicycle, accompanied by a few stray pets following at his coattails. Bulma gave her mother a nasty look, warning the blonde woman to not blurt out anything to her father.

The scientist dismounted his bike and trudged over to his family while hungrily eying the cakes on the table. He stretched a wrinkled hand up to Bunny's face and wiped the frosting off his wife's cheek with his thumb. "That's the fifth time today, dear," he chuckled.

Bulma continued to stand there idling, her thoughts elsewhere. She had not seen Vegeta at all that day, and all she knew was that he was likely off training somewhere, probably to avoid the smell of the humans in the compound. She reasoned that at least he was laying low, so as not to cause mayhem at the party or to do something that would embarrass her.

Still, she worried for his well-being. What if he managed to come across the androids? Would he stand a chance against them, even in their premature state?

She fiddled around with her appearance and bit her nails. Her mother chided her, "Sweetie, you really shouldn't do that."

"Stuff it, mom," Bulma bit back a little meaner than she normally would.

Bunny frowned. Sometimes her daughter was so disagreeable.

Bulma could not alleviate her bad temper. She was worrying about Vegeta, and on top of it she had to go around asking her father's business clients and other scientists if they knew anything about Dr. Gero. She had a long evening ahead of her.

As the clock struck half past eight and the guests arrived, Bulma had made introductions and asked around for any info on Dr. Gero. She found out little of importance, only that the man was a recluse and he kept much of his technology to himself. But from a few scientists she learned of a circulating rumor that Gero had modified a secluded laboratory based in the mountains of Metro North city. Apparently he would order lab equipment and have it delivered on a remote mountain road near the highway, where he would pick it up and transport it to his lab under the safety of nightfall. Nobody knew the precise location of the lab, or even what general coordinates it fell under. It was not a lot of information to go by, and she was a little disappointed.

One smarmy client, however, offered to find out more if in return Bulma would let him feel her up, and she had to stop herself from finding the nearest firearm or blunt weapon.

She wasn't that kind of woman anymore. She wouldn't let anyone touch her, not even in return for special favors.

Unless it was a certain prince…

By 10pm, she was done with her duties and she immediately excused herself from the party, stalking off to her room.

Her dress showed a good amount of her cleavage, and she wanted to see how Vegeta would react to that. After a boring evening spent dealing with Capsule Corp clients, she was feeling up for a round of her favorite game - teasing the hell out of the Saiyan prince. She snickered devilishly as she strode off to go find him, hoping he had returned and was somewhere within the compound.

She happened to be upstairs, so she decided to check his room to see if he was in there. Upon entering, her nose was quickly hit with a horribly rancid stench, a pungent smell like sweat, blood and cooked flesh.

"Oh, gross! What is that god awful stench?" she complained out loud, "Vegeta, are you in here? Did you forget to take a bath again?"

She flipped the light switch, and the sight that awaited her churned her sensitive stomach. A trail of blood soaked into the carpet led from the open window to the bathroom, matted and a heavy deep red hue. She held her breath for a moment as she forced the bile back into her throat.

She felt numb and sick as she was flooded with worry. She was afraid to find out what the path of blood led to, and who it came from. The sense of ominous foreboding in her did not die down as she was quickly led to suspect that the bloodshed might have come from her grumpy friend.

She swallowed her apprehension and another dose of bile as she worriedly crept across the room, avoiding looking too long at the trail of blood. Mercifully there weren't any entrails or chunks of flesh on the carpet to accompany the blood, otherwise she would have keeled over and puked immediately.

She peered around the doorframe and glanced into the bathroom, and she shrieked at the sight. In the bathtub sat the shredded, roasted corpse and partially exposed skeletal frame of some sort of large animal. Within only a few seconds she could see that it was a dinosaur before she looked away and covered her mouth with a quivering hand, stumbling from the bathroom entryway.

Apart from feeling like she was about to simultaneously vomit and faint, she was furious. She knew that the room would need to be remodeled, and the carpet would have to be ripped out, damaged beyond repair from the blood. The bathroom tiles would probably require work as well. It would take hours for all that blood to be scrubbed from the floor.

She whined loudly at the realization of the many phone calls she would need to make.

She stormed out of the room, but immediately her path was halted as she crashed into the chest of the perpetrator, the impact making her stumble back. She glared up at that familiar scowling face.

He watched her while his tongue glided over his teeth, and she saw that his mouth was filled with blood. He carelessly spat some of the crimson liquid out as if the taste did not bother him much at all. She couldn't tell if it was his blood or if it was his prey's.

She turned her head away and groaned in frustration. Vegeta eyed her up and down, not failing to notice her dress and how short it was. And her impressive cleavage.

_Vulgar woman_. He tried not to be tempted and avoided looking at her chest as he glared back up into her furious eyes. She was livid as she looked over him, ignoring that he was disheveled.

"What the hell happened?" Bulma demanded, "Why is there some dead animal in your bathroom?"

"And what the hell were you doing, sneaking around in my room while I was away?"

"I was looking for you."

He snorted, annoyed. "Is harassing me at the front of your mind at all times? I thought you had that meaningless party to attend."

"I've done what I needed to. Where have you been? I was worried!"

What a worthless thing to worry about! It wasn't as if he was in any danger. Though he did like that she had been thinking about him.

"I wanted to get some survival training on the field, and I happened across some Earth game. I had to try it." Noticing the disgusted frown on her face, he added with heinous amusement, "I thought you'd like to try some, so I brought the beast's remains here. You should thank me for being so generous."

He wasn't being truthful. It had not solely been his intention to carry the beast's cadaver to Capsule Corp to eat later. He had brought it there to horrify Bulma, as a cruel teasing game. He wanted to see how she would react, and he was not disappointed. She was profoundly disgusted, and that delighted him.

Bulma was close to retching at hearing such a ridiculous proposition. "Ew! No way am I eating that raw germ-ridden dinosaur carcass!"

She noticed the dried blood smeared on Vegeta's jaw and the blood streaming from his mouth, and there was a gash on his hand. She allowed her anger to subside as she fretted, "It looks like you got hurt in the process of hunting down your meal. Is that your blood?"

"Imbecile. A wound such as this doesn't hurt, not me," for good measure, he shook his arm, flicking a spray of blood into the air from his fingertips.

She was horrified and concerned. Her worried expression only served to amuse him immensely, and his mouth stretched into a mocking leer.

Bulma hesitated. This treacherous man didn't seem to care at all that he had made a gory mess in her house and that he was covered in blood and lacerations. It was as if he was oblivious to morals and having standards. Or perhaps he knew right from wrong, but he crossed those boundaries purposely, as if he was just taunting her and being as cruel as he could just for kicks. The teasing she was receiving from him both irked her and, in an odd way, charmed her. She found she strangely liked the attention.

She sighed. "I'll take care of those wounds for you if you get rid of that dead animal in your bathroom. Thanks to your caveman appetite, I have to call a cleaning crew to deal with the mess. Do you know what kind of a hassle I'll have to go through to explain where all the blood came from? They'll think my house is a crime scene or something…" she fiddled with her hair, looping a lock behind her ears. She hated having to explain things to people far less mentally competent than herself.

"I will simply tell them I slaughtered my dinner, and if they set foot in my room, they will meet the same fate. And don't concern yourself over the disposal of the meat. I will eat the rest later."

Bulma grimaced. "You're unsanitary... Fine, whatever. Just don't bring cooked animal corpses in my house ever again, you got that? Or if you're so dead set on being primeval, you're living in the woods."

He sneered as he tried to shove by her to retreat to his room, but she blocked his path. She was right up in his face, and he was forced to look at her cleavage, and he quickly took a step back.

"You noticed the decorations mom's been setting up around the house, haven't you?" she began.

Oh, yes he had, he thought grimly of an event that had transpired several days ago, when Bunny had attempted to hang a wreath on his Gravity Capsule. He had greatly struggled to suppress his urge to resort to physical violence. He _hated_ that woman.

"So… Christmas is coming up. You know what that means, right?"

"Are you thinking of asking me to partake in your worthless Earthling traditions?" Vegeta could not hide the hatred in his voice.

"No, it's not like I'm expecting you to, and that's fine," she said with a melancholy hint in her tone. She had been considering forcing him to make a gingerbread house with her. "I just wanted you to know I got you a gift. But I'd like to give it to you now, because I know it'll make you happy."

"Oh, I can't wait," he sounded bored and uninterested.

Bulma smiled slyly, "I am sure you'll want to give it a test run right away, so I had mom get the infirmary ready earlier today. I know you'll end up hurting yourself."

That caught his attention. He stared at her, an eyebrow raised.

Before he could ask, Bulma told him with a proud smile, "Your upgrade. I pulled it off."

He looked at her intently, and she had to laugh at the anticipation in his eyes. "You'd better not be joking," he said.

"Hey, are you doubting my ability? Go see for yourself, then. Come on," she strode away from him, heading down the hall, and he quickly followed behind her.

"You're going to give me a million thank you's for this, as well as a kiss! And I expect to hear you tell me how great I am!" Bulma said smugly on her path through the house.

They made it out onto the lawn and headed into the Gravity Capsule, all the while Bulma explained the mechanics of the upgrade, and Vegeta tuned her out for the most part, until she said, "I got the upgrade itself done a while ago, but I had to spend some extra time installing those safety features."

Hearing this annoyed him. "What a wasted effort! All this time I could have accomplished some valuable training!"

Bulma sighed and folded her arms, forgetting that by doing so she was only enhancing her cleavage. Vegeta quickly went silent. It took him a massive amount of restraint to keep his eyes away from her chest.

"Are you done complaining?" she grumbled, before she noticed the strange look on his face. He was wearing a disapproving frown, and he was clenching his teeth behind his lips almost painfully hard. He was staring at the ceiling, his eyebrows pinching together and accentuating his scowl.

_Goddamn temptress_, he berated internally. He felt uncomfortable being in the same room with her while she was wearing so little. He didn't trust what he would do when he was alone with her, especially when she looked so tempting.

Bulma sneered connivingly. She knew her dress attire was making him uneasy.

"What do you think of my dress?" she spun around to give him an eyeful, and he felt blood rush to his sinuses.

"Don't ask me something so worthless!" he bit out, and muttered, "Unsightly! You wore that around the rest of the human trash?" Though she was entitled to wear whatever she wanted, the thought of so many humans getting a look at her figure made him irritated. As far as he was concerned, her body belonged to him and she should only dress scantily in the hopes of impressing him alone. Though he would never openly admit he liked the lack of coverage.

"Do something about your atrocious apparel. It's unbecoming," he commanded.

"Do what? Take it off?"

He grimaced and marched away, then he hopped down and disappeared to the lower level of the GR.

A moment later he reappeared, viciously flinging a long-sleeved t-shirt at Bulma. She fumbled as she caught it in her arms.

"Put that on immediately. Now that you've touched it, it belongs to you. I'm now wearing something with your stench on it."

"I could say the same thing about you. What makes you think I want to wear your stinky shirt?"

She brought the shirt close to her face and sniffed it. To her utter delight, it didn't reek of his B.O., instead it smelled of that wonderful Saiyan odor. She guessed he had worn the shirt before he had come in for his training, and he must have taken it off and changed into his training shorts. Instantly she imagined him running around in the skin-tight shorts and her heart skipped giddily.

"Come to think of it, it is a little cold out here…" she was surprised that she had not noticed the cold sooner. Well, it was December, after all. She looked over the goosebumps on her arms and legs, and she decided to put the shirt on lest she would suffer hypothermia. She forced it over her head, and Vegeta watched her critically.

"The display of so much of your skin turns my stomach," he commented.

"Yeah right. It turns you on."

"You wish."

_Darn. He doesn't seem to be affected by my 'vulgar' comments anymore, _she dejectedly thought to herself. He was growing used to it.

But knowing that he was likely growing comfortable with it - with _her_ - put a smile on her lips.

She readjusted a few strands of hair that had been ruffled by the shirt. She nodded her head toward the Gravitron as she said, "This is the result of many sleepless nights and several hundred cups of coffee. I want you to know this wasn't easy, and my nails kept breaking. You'd better put this upgrade to good use!"

As Vegeta stalked over to the center of the room to the Gravitron, Bulma said with obvious happiness in her voice, "I did this for you because we're friends now."

He remembered his end of the deal, of course. Not that he'd seriously planned to follow through with it. But he didn't know how to repay her. He didn't exactly know how to be a friend.

He did recall the drunken incident when he had promised to give her something else, something more physical. That he would probably be able to give her with ease, much more effortlessly compared to friendship.

But he wasn't the type to take the easy way out.

She was the first person he had ever wanted to keep alive, not completely out of convenience or to make use of. She certainly was useful to him, but there was much more to her than just that. She made him feel like his existence meant something, when he would often doubt that himself.

She was the only one who cared. Her concern for him was sometimes annoying, but for once he was thankful that he had this woman as his comrade. And she seemed to like him far above all others. And far above her liking for Goku. He gloated at that.

And now he owed her something.

"Your sleepless nights went into a valid cause, I assure you," Vegeta said.

"To save the Earth."

"No. For _me_." He tinkered with the control panel, punching a few buttons, and indeed he could see on the numerical display that the Gravitron was now capable of withstanding 1,000Gs.

He looked back at her with an expression of wonder and a hint of gratitude, at least as much gratitude as he could muster, his scowl relaxing only a little.

"See? What'd I tell you?" Bulma said, and she went on explaining the safety features and something about how she wanted to line the walls of the GR with Hello Kitty wallpaper, but Vegeta wasn't listening. His eyes were busy taking in the details of her exposed flesh, not one part of her body going unnoticed. His gaze wandered down to her waist and all the way down to her slender ankles. He had decided that someday he would have to grip both of her ankles in his hands and spread her legs, and she would have to enjoy it.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. _Curse this woman for getting me so worked-up over nothing! _he thought.

"This will go into both saving the Earth, and for you," Bulma said, breaking him out of his fantasies.

Vegeta's upper lip twitched, almost curling into a grimace. "If you insist that's my reason, then you really are simple minded. If I happen to save the Earth, it will be inadvertently. I don't care what happens to the majority of my worthless slaves."

"Why don't you just admit you're one of us now? One of the good guys."

"Don't insult me."

Becoming one of them, becoming more human, just as Goku had. Vegeta clenched his jaw and unconsciously flexed his muscles aggressively at the thought, hating Goku for denying his heritage. But now with the upgraded gravity simulator, maybe he could surpass the third class dog.

And he had the woman at his side to thank for it. He knew what he owed her.

"Let's find out if this thing actually works."

Bulma frowned. "You're doubting my word?"

"We'll see," he punched a few buttons on the control panel, activating the gravity simulator.

The whirring sound of the Gravitron reached Bulma's ears, and her eyes widened with dread before her body was slammed against the floor. She let out a surprised squawk as she was hit by the force of the gravity. For a moment she was terrified that the crushing blow was from the weight of 1,000Gs, but she was reaffirmed that it had to be below five times the Earth's gravity. Otherwise, she knew, her bones would have been crushed into a million tiny splintered fragments by now.

Vegeta looked down at her, highly amused. "Well. I guess you are from the weak end of the gene pool, after all. This is only two times Earth's gravity."

With the added weight crushing her lungs, Bulma could only gasp, "Two? This feels like two _hundred!_"

"Of course it does. That's because you're weak."

He paced around her, sneering at the fallen woman. He liked her much better sprawled out on the ground before him.

He taunted, "Well. What do we have here? An incapacitated and weak Earthling woman lying at my feet. What fate you're going to meet is to be decided by me."

"I hope you're not going to do a puff-puff or a slurp-slurp!" she said, her lungs struggling for air.

He frowned. "A what? No, don't bother answering."

"You put…" she struggled to talk between exhausted gasps, "Your head right here… and you go 'puff-puff', you know, and a slurp-slurp…"

He was already mentally scarred at this point. "I don't care to know how you cretinous humans fondle one another!" He stopped, standing above her at her heels, muttering darkly, "I could assault you right now and you could do nothing to stop me. Would you find that amusing?"

She said while panting, "I wouldn't call it assault if I'm willing."

So she _did_ want it, and not just when she was drunk.

He looked over her body with renewed fascination. Because of her he was considering impure things, and he realized that he was free to act on them now, and she would not be able to retaliate. Her heavy breathing was intriguing him far too much, and he found himself to be very interested in finding out just how willing she was.

He didn't know that she was only teasing him.

By determination alone, she tried to lift herself up by her legs, but she collapsed back to the floor, hitting the back of her head against the red tiles, her legs sprawled. She whined and writhed about pitifully. He stalked closer to her until he was standing directly above her, his legs apart on either side of her, and his eyes held a sinister look. She stared up at him with alarm, wondering what he intended to do.

"Do you call this willing?" he put his left foot down on the top of her sternum just under her collarbone, applying not enough pressure to hurt her, but enough to keep her immobilized and to frighten her.

The added weight increased the strain on her body, which only enraged her.

"You don't even have the strength to stand up, do you?" he said.

"That… was really mean! Jerk!" She struggled to move, but lethargy overpowered her.

He wasn't through with her yet. "I wouldn't call that mean. Not as mean as _this_."

He crouched over her, looming over her like an animal about to strike its prey down. He would have been lying on top of her had he not been keeping his body distanced from hers by a few inches, his skin not even touching her own. He was uncomfortably close, at least on his part he should have felt uncomfortable, but he was confident, and that intimidated the heiress.

He could sense that she was struggling to keep her composure and trying not to allow herself to be wrongly excited by his behavior. And she was failing miserably, trembling and waiting for his next move. He had not been this close to her before, and she wanted to get closer.

"I told you I would use your human desire to torture you," he gave her a throaty laugh, staring at the mixture of shame and horror in her eyes. "If you weren't so weak, you could do something about it. You could act on your disgusting impulses and do whatever you wished with me. But you can't even move."

He lowered his head close to her, cruelly amused at the anguish and fury growing in her widened blue eyes. "How does it feel to have what you want just within your reach, but you can't take it?"

He knew the feeling all too well.

Her body ached, she felt like crying, and she was turned on to the max. But he was right. She still hadn't fully caught her breath, and her legs were useless and immobile. She felt that this was her chance to finally do whatever she liked with him, and he would allow it, but because of her physical weakness she could do absolutely nothing.

He was right. It was torture to her.

"You're… a jerk…" she sniffled.

He froze when he saw the glint to her eyes. She was about to cry.

He didn't at all think he had gone too far with picking on her. He was sure she would have found some clever way to keep her advantage. But she was giving up.

She looked away. It had been a long day and she was a little cranky, and she was stressing over the animal carcass in her house. She wasn't in the mood to put up a fight.

He stared at her, memorizing her flawless face from this proximity. He wondered what was his favorite part - her nose, her lips, or her perfectly plucked eyebrows. He easily decided it was her eyes, her eyes that she fearlessly held on his own, boldly and defiantly glaring at him, challenging and confronting him, never looking away. She never backed down, refusing to take her eyes off him. She was the only one who could look him in the eye defiantly and without fear, never looking away no matter how frightening he was. He both loved and hated it.

But now she wouldn't even look at him, and that made him irate. He allowed her to keep her life for the inner strength she maintained, but this side of her he was not used to. He would have to exploit her.

Not bothering to level the danger in his voice, Vegeta growled, "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

She refused, staring at the wall of the Gravity Room. She had regained her breath, but talking was still difficult. "So I can look at what I can't have, right? No. And I'm mad at you. Right now you don't deserve to look into my gorgeous eyes!"

Oh, so she wasn't giving up. She was just being stubborn. He would need to be extra cruel now.

He lowered himself onto her, satisfied that the stress in her body was increased, as her legs twisted underneath his. He could feel her shuddering, but she still refused to give in and look at him.

He put his hands around her shoulders, and she tried to fight off his crushing fingers by squirming around even more. He frowned. All this helpless squirming was elating to him, but he knew he would soon be overexcited. And she would notice now that he was lying on top of her.

He brought his face closer to her, and she shut her eyes. She had not come prepared for something like this, and she was not ready. Not yet.

He worked his fingers up to her neck, and he felt her swallow. Her fear gave him the initiative to make his move and to let her know he could do with her whatever he pleased. And by her reaction to his advancements, he knew she would not be opposed to it. Though it was disgusting Earthling compassion he would need to use to taunt her, he would use it to his advantage and overlook humiliation.

And he had to admit he wanted this too.

He was coming to accept that he wanted her in this way. He was surprised at how he did not feel awkward or embarrassed at being this close to her. It felt natural and simple, much easier than fighting a verbal spar against her. He could win this, and his victory would be physically doing what he wanted with her, and it would be so gratifying.

She could feel his grip on her shoulders tighten before he cruelly dragged his mouth across her throat, giving her just the barest touch of teeth against her skin, wanting to give her a taste of the fear he could generate in her and warning her that he was willing to maul her to death if he wanted to.

She gasped, and through his lips he felt the intake of air in her windpipes, and some long ignored instinct told him to block her mouth off with his own. But he fought the urge to kiss her, reasoning himself against something so degrading, instead silencing the urge by sinking his teeth into the gentle flesh her shoulder.

"Ouch!" she cried out, her eyes snapping open, "That hurts!"

He unconsciously hiked the skirt of her dress up and grinded his hips against her, his body's deliberate need to get even closer to her while letting her know what was just out of her reach, what she would be allowed to have if she just admitted it. She could feel his full erection eagerly pressing on her, and she wanted every bit of it. She sighed softly despite the pain in her chest, and with quivering fingers she slipped her hand up to touch his chest with her fingertips, although the constricting pain tightening in the muscles of her arm was almost unbearable. She felt she needed to touch him to remind herself this wasn't a dream, that this was real, and no matter how cruel he was being, he was still giving her what she had been longing for.

He pulled his head back and snarled as he realized how overworked he was. "Fuck!" he muttered. He'd let himself get too carried away, and she was aware of it.

Her dazed eyes were on his as she lay there panting, but he did not look at her as he instead snapped his head to the side, facing the wall of the GR. Only he had heard the quiet knock on the door. He recognized the ki outside and frowned, disgusted by the intrusion, but even more disgusted with himself as he realized what he wanted to do with the woman lying helplessly underneath him.

He lifted his body away from her and disengaged the gravity simulation, and Bulma let out a long sigh as relief flooded through her tired limbs, but that welcomed relief was met with disappointment.

"Keep quiet and stay there on the floor where you belong," he said over his shoulder to Bulma, and at the sound of his voice she breathed in deep, not sure if she should be afraid by the tone in his voice.

He added, "I'm not done with you," as he slipped out of the room quickly and blocked the door with his back against it, so if Bulma managed to get back up and tried to leave, she wouldn't be able to get out.

He could tell who the nuisance was without the aid of the moonlight illuminating the man standing on the grass. He could smell the scar-faced whelp from a mile away, and he could only wonder what this human wanted with him at this hour.

Yamcha stood on the lawn in front of the capsule, shifting his weight around and looking very nervous. He glanced down at his feet as he addressed the Saiyan, "Um… sorry to bother you. I'm looking for Bulma. Have you seen her?"

He couldn't even sense Bulma's ki in turmoil where she lay inside the capsule? What a weakling. Vegeta did not bother to hide his mocking chuckle, "Who? Oh, the loud-mouthed harpy. No."

"Right. I didn't think so."

"Now get lost. I'm in the middle of something."

"Are you training this late?" He finally looked up at Vegeta, and he immediately noticed the bulge in his pants, and he grimaced and felt very uncomfortable, not to mention inadequate.

"Envious, aren't you?" Vegeta said.

"Oh. Uh…" Yamcha did not hesitate to walk away from the capsule, quickly muttering as he retreated, "Well, I'll leave you with whatever it is you're doing in there."

_Your woman. _

She was still on the floor when he returned, but she was sitting now, having lifted her torso up and resting her weight on the palms of her hands, no longer restricted by twice her body's weight. She was waiting for him and greeting him with a glare, drawing in hasty breaths through her tired lungs.

He stalked over to her, and she felt worry at realizing that she was not going to be given the reprieval she suddenly wanted. He was not done tormenting her.

He looked down at her. Back to the task at hand.

"Your pet was looking for you."

"I don't have a pet. You mean one of my dad's?" she said weakly.

He didn't answer.

With his silence, she took the moment to ask, "You like me, don't you."

"I _don't_," he replied sharply.

"Then why did you crawl all over me? And _bite_ me?"

"I did that to remind you that your life is dedicated to serving me now."

She sighed, not buying his excuse. "Admit it, you weren't marking me as your territory or something. You're totally into me!"

He hadn't done it to mark her as his. He did it as payback. She had done the same thing to him before during that exchange in his closet, and he had not forgotten or forgiven her. She was owed the same treatment, and he had enjoyed dishing it out to her.

He had also wanted her to focus all her attention on him. And he had succeeded, because now she couldn't get him out of her head.

He finally said, "I would rather go to hell than 'like' you. Although I am sure there are just as many irritating succubi like you there."

She remained on the floor, grumbling curses, distraught and frustrated by his answer. He observed her, before he said, "You're making this painfully vague."

"What?"

"Are you afraid of me, or do you have more impure motives on your mind?" She had to be more clear and direct than this, and he wanted her to tell him what she wanted with him.

"Well, I like you, a little," she said, and she eyed his hard-on, "And it looks as if you like me too. Don't try to deny it, I _felt _that."

He ran his hand across his face, wishing he could disappear.

"You seemed very eager for it," Bulma said smugly.

He stormed over to the light switch on the wall and he pounded his fist against it, and it went dark.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the red hue of the room, but his voice was suddenly close to her. "You told me I'm sadistic, do you remember? And maybe I am. I was just thinking of killing you, and the thought of your mangled body got my blood flowing," his cutting remark was followed by a cold laugh, and Bulma shuddered.

Was he not at all embarrassed of the giveaway that he wanted her, at least for just her body? He was growing more comfortable with her, and it frustrated and made her ecstatic at the same time.

"I think you mean to say the sight of my body… underneath you in bed, right?" she said.

He was disgusted, but aware that he was getting closer to hearing her speak what he wanted to hear. He continued to harass her, snidely hissing, "Maybe if it's your decrepit and rotting corpse."

Bulma whined, "I know you like me too! You just tried to come on to me!"

"Above all else, you irritate the hell out of me." He was not giving her a direct answer.

She pouted, expecting that sort of response.

But he did mutter, "However, I admire your guts… And I will admire them much more as they are spilled out on the dinner table for me to eat."

She completely overlooked his threat as she delightedly said, "Did you just compliment me?" She blushed furiously, a wide smile gracing her face. She would have cupped her face in her hands and squealed giddily if it weren't for the pain in her muscles weighing her down. Regardless of the pressure that had been on her body, her heart leapt.

Though it wasn't exactly the most flattering compliment she had ever received, it meant so much more to her than all the others, especially because it was coming from the mean bastard Saiyan prince, who was not known for handing out compliments.

Vegeta pulled a face at observing her odd reaction. He didn't dish out compliments, ever, but he spoke truthfully to her, though he masked his compliment under a mean remark.

"So, what are you going to do about-" she nodded toward his pelvic region, "that?"

He snarled and immediately marched over to her, and she stifled a frightened squeal in her throat, wishing she had remained silent.

He stopped and stood just above her and squared his shoulders back, placing his hands on his waist and standing with his legs apart in a wide, threatening stance, no longer trying to hide the fact of his aroused state. He was exuding the confidence of one who knew he had a chance at winning, realizing that he might be victorious in this war. No longer did she have the upper hand over him.

He sneered at her, "I assure you this will be the last time you'll see this. Feast your eyes on it!" _And eventually… you'll feast on it not with your eyes, but with your mouth_, he thought smugly.

She stared up at him for a long time, her heart pounding painfully as she observed his stature. Compared to Goku, Vegeta was tiny and not too bulky. His hair was laughable and his shoulders were small, but he was lithe and nimble. It was to be fleet and quick in his battles that be was built this way, built for speed to get his murderous tasks done expediently. He was the sole essence of death, built to kill, and she was certainly afraid of him now.

But he was not made entirely to kill. His body could serve to fulfill her fleshly yearnings.

Her eyes landed back on his crotch, and she was startled when he said, "You'd like this, wouldn't you? Come and get it. If you can rise to your feet after having endured the pressure of 2Gs, I might just let you blow me."

She cringed at what he had said. Though reveling in knowing that he would like for her to please him, there was no way was she going to struggle to get him to let his defenses down. He would have to be the pursuant.

"And what makes you think I actually want to do that?" Bulma said with a frown.

"You told me yourself."

"I said, maybe we should go out, but I didn't say anything about hooking up!"

"Oh yes you did."

"Did not!" She would have remembered such a thing!

Vegeta decided no further harm would come by bringing up the event of her inebriated night. "That evening when you were drunk and whining about your whelp, you crawled onto me and demanded me to relieve your barbaric needs," he briefly pulled a face. The memory made him uncomfortable.

Bulma was immediately ashamed. _I didn't! Did I? _she questioned herself. She knew the likelihood was great. By what Vegeta described, it seemed very plausible that she would do such a thing, especially if she had been drunk. And he didn't seem to be the type to make something like that up.

She tried to defend herself, "You said… in exchange for the upgrade-"

"I didn't make any promises, but I assure you, what you wanted from me was not simply _friendship_."

She swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond to that.

She had truly wanted to befriend him. Beyond a few acquaintances, she was usually too busy to make any close friends, and she felt pangs of loneliness at the realization. The only friends she could account for were Goku, Krillin, Tien, and Launch, but everyone was busy training, and Launch had spent much of her time hunting Tien down to the ends of the Earth, calling to say hello on rare occasions if she happened to be crashing at the Kame house.

Bulma was lonely, and she had been yearning to befriend Vegeta for a long time now. She needed his companionship, even if he could not offer a lot. But he was right, because now what she wanted from him was more than friendship.

Of course, if she did manage to walk so soon after having been crushed under the 2Gs and make her way over to him, he'd reward her unquestionably. But he'd only let her suck him off and nothing more. He didn't intend to please her in return. Not until she would earn it by telling him she wanted it.

She couldn't keep her eyes away from his crotch. She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very intimidated.

He noticed what she had her eyes fixed on in a daze, and he stalked closer to her, and she shrieked and scooted away a little, but only by half a foot. His smirk only grew as she tried to evade him.

"What's wrong? Are you afraid?"

"N-No!" she yelped, backing away from him, finally tearing her gaze from below his waist as she stared up into his narrowed eyes. She didn't know what his intentions were, and that frightened her a little. But more than that, she was afraid that if he wanted to have sex with her, it might be viciously painful, judging by the size of the bulge in his pants.

"Impressed, are you?" he gloated, "After years of enduring your puny man's cock, you can't help but feel astonishment at witnessing what the prince of Saiyans has to offer!"

By now, his confidence was utterly terrifying to her. Her bottom lip trembled.

Knowing he was building up her anticipation, he husked, "This is what you wanted, and now you're backing down?"

Her eagerness was only increased, prospecting at all the impure things he might be about to do to her. He was frightening yet enrapturing her with his dark throaty rasping and mean remarks.

Her expression hardened. She didn't like that she was losing this battle. Though the intimidating and confident Vegeta before her was admittedly extremely alluring, she wasn't used to being the one groveling on the floor, wary of his intentions. She was used to playing the part of the seductress.

But this wasn't an entirely unwelcomed role for her. She was not accustomed to being submissive, but for once she didn't need to be the one taking the initiative.

She would have vocalized her fear with her wavering voice, but only a tiny whine escaped her throat as he knelt down and fisted a handful of her dress from around her waist. He hauled her up so that her face was leveled with his, and her heart pounded with trepidation and anticipation. She drew in a sharp breath, which he felt through his fingertips gripping the red silken fabric. The last of her strength and will was failing her. She could not resist, not when what she wanted was within reach. Every part of her ached for more of him, and this was her opportunity to do something about her yearning.

She felt his chillingly cold breath on her neck. He didn't say a word, and she could not see behind the hardened glare and the smoldering look to his eyes, not betraying his thoughts. His glare was penetrating and unfaltering, and she could barely hold up under it.

He saw that her body was exhausted, and she looked like she would be willing to give in to his every demand, but her eyes forged that fiery glare, that spark that refused to fade, no matter how cruel and commanding he was to her. That fierce determination and resilience was captivating, and he was momentarily disengaged from making his next move as he was caught by her furious eyes.

Driven by the need to win this battle and to prevail, and despite the ache in her arms, she used all her strength and worked her fingers into his hair, curling her fingers around the nape of his neck, tugging on a handful of hair. She pulled his mouth down onto hers, and she forcefully pressed her lips on his, kissing him.

She could taste the blood on his mouth, and her tongue felt the texture of peeling skin on his bottom lip as she laved over it. She was still not knowing if the blood in his mouth was his or not, but it did not bother her. It only spurred her on, and she kissed him again, more forcefully.

He did not flinch or retaliate, nor did he close his eyes, enduring the two and a half seconds her lips were held on his own, but he was shocked by her sudden aggression. He was enduring it well, but he was close to wincing.

When she leaned away to assess his reaction, his brow creased. He had not reciprocated the kiss. And he did not look happy.

She was surprised when he stood up and went to the other side of the room, a safe distance away from the temptation before him. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, scrubbing his mouth clean while keeping his eyes on her. A critical look crossed his features, communicating his distaste through his scowl.

Her breathing was even heavier than before, she was almost wheezing with pain. She had really exhausted herself beyond her limit, and for what? Just to kiss him. Did it really mean so much to her?

He had misjudged her body's exhaustion and didn't realize she had the strength to move so soon after being crushed by twice her body's weight. He was actually impressed with her. He deserved to endure that kiss, but it didn't mean he would sit well with it.

Bulma's tired mouth turned up into a victorious and satisfied smile. "I just kissed you."

"Obviously." His voice lacked any emotion other than resentment.

"How did you like it? Was that your first kiss?"

His mouth formed a snarl, "And how was that new to me? You've done it so many times already, despite how I've warned you to never do it again. You'll pay for this."

She owed him a lot now. She had gotten away with so many things, fondling him, climbing on him while drunk, sinking her teeth into his flesh, kissing him multiple times.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he wiped his mouth off again with the back of his hand. He remarked, "Must you always force me to cleanse my palate of your filth?"

She wasn't too pleased with his reaction to her kiss. Her smile faded.

He continued to fire a barrage of words that only served to sink her confidence. "I don't care if you do that as long as it will heal my injuries, or as you blindly believe, my conscience, but otherwise I expect you to refrain from the act indefinitely. Especially if your intent is to show me affection."

He could feel the sadness in her voice when she reasoned, "But in this way it does heal you. I don't think you've ever received love. You need it, and I can give it to you at no cost. You're my friend, I _want_ to help you!"

He stiffened at what she was saying, trying to deny everything she insinuated. He bit back, "I don't need such unwanted emotions thrown at me!"

Bulma was growing frustrated with him as she spouted, "There are a lot of things in life you might not want, but you need them anyway! Do you think I like wearing a bra every day? No! It's annoying! But if I don't wear one, my boobs will go swinging in every direction!"

How the hell did she use that as an analogy? Vegeta felt extremely uncomfortable once again.

"Vegeta," she sighed, unsure how to put this into words without offending him. "I know you're lonely. You need someone who cares about you. I can give that to you."

Without another word, he turned away from her and stormed out of the Gravity Room.

She watched him stalk away, and she was flustered, blowing air between her buzzing lips. This man was more than just playing hard to get. He was nearly impossible to win over, and now she was not sure if she could ever catch him.

As he strode across the lawn, he tried to level his building rage as his thoughts replayed what had happened. He had not disliked the kiss, but it had instilled in him a strange amorous feeling, one he considered unpleasant, not to mention how awkward and uncomfortable it felt. He had disliked his reaction to it more than anything else.

But it wasn't all that bad. Not as repulsive as he'd expected, though the purpose behind such a degrading act made him want to gag. He had not reciprocated her kiss, partially because he was afraid that if he kissed her back, he would become overexcited, smother her with his mouth and suffocate her.

But that kiss aside, he was more irate at what she had said.

What an absurd thing to say – accusing him of being lonely, it was ridiculous!

But deep down he knew she was right. He would hate to admit it to her, least of all himself. He had really been alone. Not anyone else's company, not Nappa's nor Raditz's, could fill that void in him that yearned for something that he could not understand. He was reminded every day that his life and his place as Prince of all Saiyans meant nothing to anyone else. His pain had been overlooked by everybody... Until now. This odd blue-haired woman could see his anguish.

He felt a cold chill run through him. What if she was right, what if he needed it in his life? This disgusting and sickening thing called love. He'd never had it, and after descending into a nightmarish world ruled by a usurper and living in slavery, he had not once considered nor had he hoped for something like love. Nobody had ever cared for him, not until now, and he had no idea how he should respond.

Then he suddenly had a thought - What if it could make him become stronger? Goku had loved ones. What if that was what gave him his strength? And maybe it was what led him to become a Super Saiyan?

That might explain why no amount of hard work he had struggled through had helped him to reach his goal. How, after training only under 100Gs and without having a shred of hatred in him, had Goku managed such a feat? Could it be this garbage he and these Earthlings always spouted, their nonsense about forgiving their enemies, protecting the weak and innocent, and caring for those you loved, could it be true and could it help make one stronger?

How could anything so ridiculous and despicable be an asset? Simply considering it was humiliating enough as it is. He wanted this woman to give him everything she could offer him. He felt entitlement to that. But could he give her anything in return? Could he forge a bond with her and form an attachment, and could that somehow increase his strength? It sounded almost inconceivable, and impractical.

But it may be sensible to consider that perhaps selflessness could be empowering. Did Goku's compassion for others exemplify how he had prevailed, and transformed and risen to face Frieza? That would easily explain why he, Vegeta, had not been able to manage it, no matter how hard he struggled and how fiercely he trained.

Affection, love, and caring, that was all foreign to the Saiyan prince. He had not ever experienced these feelings that the humans glorified. It could not be too difficult to learn how to care, could it? He had known of nothing but pain, fear, and hatred his whole life. Those came easily to him. But as he was, he was not the type to take the easy way out. He worked hard to get everything he wanted. This would be no different.

And if it could help him become a Super Saiyan… It might be worth a shot. Maybe even more beneficial than the 1,000Gs upgrade.


	20. Chapter 20

Vegeta didn't show his face around Capsule Corp for over two months. He hadn't even tried out the new upgrade. The capsule sat neglected on the lawn, and every time Bulma would look at it as she passed by, she felt disappointment and sadness.

His absence haunted her as each lonely day passed by. Though he was by no means obligated to stick around and keep her company, she missed him. Now that the target of her affections was gone, she felt alone and bored, so when she got a surprise visit from Yamcha, she did not turn him away. They might not have been tied together through a relationship, but he was still her friend.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen as she set to fix up a quick snack for him, though only to be polite and courteous. And although she was glad to have a friend's company, it did not mean she didn't have bitter feelings toward him. She had a lot to say to him.

"Sandwich?" she began.

"Not hungry," Yamcha responded uneasily, shifting around in his seat.

"How's your training going?" she asked, but the tone in her voice was guarded, and Yamcha recognized it. She was going to interrogate the hell out of him.

"It's going well, I guess," he said as he nervously tapped the tips of his fingers against the table. "Bulma, there's something I-"

"You know, I would have liked it if you'd asked me to go with you on your training journey, as with all the other times you left me to train. Why don't you ever ask me if I want to tag along?"

"I don't think you're suited for spending months out in the wilderness, Bulma." He looked away as he murmured, "You're high maintenance."

Bulma shut her eyes and mentally counted to ten, trying to level her anger.

She knew he was right. She was very demanding and she required a lot of pampering. But still, she would have liked it if he had asked her at the very least, even if her answer would have been no.

But that was not the main issue at hand.

She snidely said, "Did you put those condoms to use?"

"About that…" he looked away, growing extremely uncomfortable at this point. "Look, it's not what you think."

"Oh, I think you've been clear enough with that box of condoms. You _conned_ me, and you're _dumb_."

He chuckled awkwardly at the pun, but that did not lift her anger, and his merriment was silenced by her furious glare. She said, "It's not gonna change anything, but give me your excuse. Let's hear it."

He shuffled his feet around, staring at them silently before he raised his head and looked at her as he admitted, "I didn't use them. I wanted you to see… so…" he fell silent, unable to explain his reasoning.

She studied him as his head sunk down again, and he continued shuffling his feet nervously. He had not really been the type to lie to her face, so she didn't doubt him.

"Why?" she asked. That was unlike him to want to get caught even if he had not been guilty of anything, and with an ulterior motive, taking the fall using an extrinsic device. But she knew it was in his character to be indirect rather than approaching her directly. It made sense to her.

He quietly said, "I had to do something to get your attention. I guess I wanted things to change. And I wanted you to decide what to do about us."

"_Us_? You have got to be joking. We're over!"

He raised his head and said defensively, "You always say that, but you take me back every time!"

"Hey, I needed someone to hook up with, even if the sex sucked. And how many times did you ever try to initiate it? Maybe once a year!"

"No. Twice," he tried to joke, but Bulma did not find it funny in the least.

"And what about Maron? I was told you let her kiss you."

"She kissed me on the _cheek_. I don't even like her!" He actually held a strong hatred for Maron. She followed him around everywhere, and that annoyed him. She had even harassed him today with her presence, and he had made his getaway by retreating to Capsule Corp. While he was intimidated by smart women like Bulma, he wasn't really interested in a complete dunce like Maron.

Bulma continued berating him, "It's like we've been apart for years, Yamcha. Our relationship was doomed from day one because I brought you to the city filled with girls, and you were no longer afraid to look. And everything just went downhill ever since you started training under that perv Roshi and you abandoned me for your stupid training journeys. I'm sure the turtle hermit's lecherous ways have rubbed off on you!"

That was not far off the mark. Yamcha had never even dared to look at other women until his tutelage under Roshi had begun. The turtle hermit had taught his pupils on the art of being far too appreciative of the female body.

"And you did find watching those gross exercise programs more entertaining than sleeping with me," Bulma added resentfully.

_Because the women on tv can't bitch back at me_, Yamcha thought dismally. He did like watching women more than he liked talking to them, and even sleeping with a woman was not as satisfying to him as his voyeurism. They were so hard to please.

But he never actively cheated on her. He'd gone to strip clubs many times whenever they'd fought; Roshi had said it was healthy for pupils of the turtle school to go to a strip club every once in a while. But he had accidentally slipped only once or twice, and he always felt guilty about it afterwards.

He had not meant to hurt her purposely. Whenever he had been unfaithful it had always been whenever they had split up, and the women always approached him first, and he did not have the strength to deny them. He found most women to be intimidating and pushy and he was afraid of angering them.

It had only happened a few times, and that was many years ago during the infancy of their relationship and after he had gotten over his fear of talking to women. He had reveled in being flirted with by girls who approached him. And during the times he had not been faithful, it had always been a spur of the moment thing with no attachments formed for the women he'd seen, and it helped serve as an ego boost. He wanted to reassure himself that he could please somebody, at least. He knew he couldn't fully satisfy a demanding spitfire like Bulma.

But he always beat himself up over it. He never initiated physical contact, but he would allow women to do what they wanted. He basked in the attention they gave him, and he had a hard time saying no. He hated that he was so weak.

And he felt inadequate compared to Bulma. She deserved better than him, and he knew it. He knew she was tired of him, and her wandering eyes only made him feel lower and he resented that she had lost interest in him. Bulma had high standards, and he often couldn't meet them. She was bored with him and she was beginning to look elsewhere.

Bulma watched his silent musings critically, then she asked, "So you didn't cheat on me?"

"No…" he admitted sheepishly. Though he had gone to several strip clubs in recent months, but he wasn't about to fess up to that.

Disgruntled and not wanting to interrogate him further, Bulma sighed and said, "Well… I guess your excuse makes sense. You never did like wearing condoms." He had always fussed about how he didn't like the way they felt, like they were squeezing him to death. He instead found them much more useful as novelty items, making balloons out of them, much to Bulma's humiliation.

"So you kept them on you, hoping I'd notice so I would decide if I wanted to break up with you or not. Right?" she assumed.

"Yeah, I guess…"

She sighed again, sharply. "This is why we can't work anything out. I need someone who can be direct with me."

"I know you deserve better. I can't give you what you want," he said remorsefully.

"Then why are you here?"

Yamcha said nothing. He felt he owed her an apology. He felt guilty and wanted to end things on good terms. He knew the relationship was over, but he could see that he was handling the split better than her. She clearly held some resentment toward him, while he did not feel hurt for their failed relationship. He'd seen it coming.

She, on the other hand, was a proud woman. She could not accept that she was unwanted by even one man, and he couldn't handle her anymore. He only felt shame that he could not hold himself to her standards.

She was especially sexually demanding, and he couldn't meet her expectations and she could not overlook his shortcomings in the sack. Sex was very important to her, and he felt she deserved everything she wanted, though he could not provide it. He was incredibly shy about initiating trysts, and he had always submitted to her entirely. He knew he was inadequate and he realized she wanted someone who was at her level. He was not that someone.

All of these were things he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't convey it. Their relationship had communication issues, at least on his part. He felt enough shame as it was at having thrown subtle clues about his need for change, even if change meant losing her.

Bulma continued to observe his silence. She wished he would just speak his mind to her, even if he had nothing good to say. She had learned to perceive his silence as his way of apologizing and admitting he was wrong without losing face.

"I wish you would just tell me what's on your mind," she said softly.

Yamcha lowered his head slightly, trying to hide his shame, but he couldn't say anything.

She was smart and she could read him fairly well, knowing he had trouble communicating, and knowing that she was aware of that made his confidence plummet even further. He couldn't admit that he felt inferior to her.

Realization sunk in for Bulma as she watched his demeanor. She knew this would never work out. They were incompatible. There was no use in belligerently harassing him to explain himself or to get him to apologize, and it didn't matter anymore. Their relationship was over.

She decided to change the subject to see if at least their friendship could be salvaged. "How's Puar doing?"

Yamcha relaxed, knowing the worst was over as he let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, she's alright…" a lopsided smile crossed his features as he recalled, "But she almost got run over by a car last week. Traffic was horrible."

"Oh really?" Bulma said with a grin. He could still make her smile, at least.

The next several minutes were spent with the two telling each other of recent events in their lives, recapping on what they had missed out on.

Then Yamcha said, "What's that bast- I mean Vegeta. What's he up to?" He shuddered as he remembered seeing Vegeta on the night of the Capsule Corp party. "Has he transformed into a Super Saiyan or whatever?" He leaned back in his chair with a smug grin, adding mostly to reassure himself, "Naw. I doubt it."

Bulma's heart sank as she reflected over Vegeta, remembering that frigid December night and what had occurred between them, and that little scuffle in the Gravity Capsule.

She suddenly worried that Yamcha would find out about that, and he would be livid. She watched him, but he seemed carefree and relaxed, and he did not display the mannerisms of one who knew that one of his closest friends was flirting with the very essence of danger and involving herself with a murderous extraterrestrial mercenary. Yamcha would be less than happy if he found out. She wouldn't be able to blame him, it wouldn't exactly be spectacular news for him to find out that his ex girlfriend was cozying herself up to the mass-murdering alien who had had him killed.

Bulma trying to play off any suspicion, if he had any, by cooly saying, "You know, I actually haven't seen that jerk since December."

"Yeah. I stopped by here when your family had that party or something going on. I couldn't find you but I came across Vegeta. I guess he was training late but…" he grimaced with disgust as he recalled what he had seen, "I think he enjoys his training a little _too_ much."

So Yamcha had stopped by Capsule Corp that night? Bulma realized how close she and Vegeta had been to being caught engaging in what was beyond friendship. No wonder Vegeta had stepped outside the GR – to chase Yamcha away, apparently.

She misinterpreted this as Vegeta prioritizing what he had been doing with her, though he had simply been annoyed by the intrusion. But it was perhaps that she was subconsciously trying to convince herself that he was interested in her, for the sake of her ego.

She shrugged, adding, "Like I care what he does. He can do whatever he likes. Except hit on me."

"Or hit you."

Bulma frowned. "He wouldn't do that. He's…" she paused for a moment, worried she might betray her secret. "He wouldn't dare touch me. I think he would prefer his love for training and fighting over wanting to do anything to me, even harm me."

"Well, if he tries to do anything to you, I'll stop him."

Bulma guffawed, "Just like you stopped him when he first came to Earth, right?"

The hurt expression that settled on Yamcha's face told her she had hit a soft spot. She felt bad, though not enough to apologize.

Yamcha stood up from his seat, excusing himself, "Look, I gotta go. I really should get back to training."

"Yeah. Good luck," Bulma replied.

He made his retreat out the front door with an awkward wave of his hand, and Bulma returned the gesture just as awkwardly.

She was glad things had ended on friendly terms, though a little uncomfortable. She sighed with relief. It was not such a bad ending to their relationship, and she was glad that the misunderstanding had been cleared up and they had reconciled somewhat. But even if he hadn't cheated, she was still through with him. And she didn't feel for Yamcha anymore, not anything beyond an acquaintanceship.

There was someone else she wanted now, but she didn't know if he would ever come back.

* * *

Vegeta dropped down from the sky and landed on the front lawn of Capsule Corp. He payed no mind to the terrified woman walking by on the sidewalk as she leapt at the sight of him, startled by his sudden appearance.

With a stern expression the prince stared at the building in front of him. He had wanted to elude this place for longer, a year if he could, but he knew that returning would be unavoidable. He needed the resources provided here, and he needed that persistent temptress. But what he needed her for now was much more than her technical skill.

He had spent his absence contemplating his next course of action concerning her, all the while he acknowledged he did not feel any attachments for Bulma, other than desire and admiration. But would it be possible for more? He decided he would try to find out, but it would be for a selfish cause. He wondered, if he could care for this woman, could he become a Super Saiyan? It was not for anything like having feelings for her that he would attempt this, it was only to increase his power that he would be willing to give it a shot. He already enamored her internal strength, not to mention her pretty face, so he assumed it would not be impossible to find more he did not loathe about her.

But where he stood now, did he care about her? Not really. He did not feel that it was his duty and obligation to protect her and keep her out of harm's way and lend her his strength for when she needed it. But he had spent a long time considering that if he could learn these things, he might gain that legendary status he strived for.

He had long ignored his longing for affection, but perhaps she had been right. Maybe he needed it. At this point he was becoming desperate to reclaim his place, and he wanted to surpass Goku at any cost, even if it meant he would need to form an attachment with someone. It seemed reasonable that a Saiyan could ascend only once they cared for another – that would explain why Super Saiyans were few and far between. Saiyans cared for no one, at least not enough.

He'd heard nothing of Saiyans being even remotely capable of feeling love, but Goku had managed it somehow. It was perplexing to Vegeta. How could a weak lower class Saiyan rise to legendary status? Could it be this ridiculous human compassion that the younger Saiyan had learned to feel? Maybe that was what had made him an exception to the rule and gave him his unfathomable strength. If a low class dog could gain that much power within such a short amount of time because he had loved ones, Vegeta could only wonder and marvel at the possibilities of the kind of strength an elite could gain.

If it meant he could transcend and regain his title as the best of the Saiyan race, he could sacrifice a bit of his pride. He decided to attempt this, shameful as it was. He would do anything to surpass his rival, even lowering himself to this. He did not know how much time it would take to learn to care for the shrieking Earth woman, but he figured it would be simple, and he expected immediate results. She was easily the only person he could have an ounce of respect for. Taking a liking to her beyond that might be possible. If Goku could tolerate and care for Chi Chi, certainly the prince of Saiyans could put up with Bulma, despite her nagging.

Although on the down side this meant Bulma might take this as an initiative to impose her affections on him. He wouldn't mind the physical aspects of that, but she would not be able to expect him to spew sweet nothings from his mouth for her satisfaction. He would never partake in such idiocy, though he would not be too sickened if she verbally professed her feelings for him. He expected to be on her mind at all times, but he could not promise to dish out the same treatment. He needed to keep his distance, and if she could not handle that, then she would be much weaker than he thought.

If the other Earthlings ever found out about it, he wouldn't care much. They valued their sentimentality, but he could always deny it and claim that he merely used her for his own personal gain, although that would not be far from the truth. This was a test to him, and a last resort. He would have to go out of his way to bother her and progress their strange relationship.

Scanning the vicinity in search of Bulma's ki, he was distracted as his nose picked up a foul scent. He sneered as he detected the faint odor of the scarred human. That mongrel had no business here. Vegeta was officially in a bad mood now.

He regally walked around the building and headed over to the back of the compound, where he spotted blue hair. For a second he thought it was Bulma, but this woman's energy signal and scent were different, and her hair was longer and a deeper shade of blue. He quickly assumed this girl might be a relative.

Whatever the case, though he did not care who this was, he would see if he could interrogate and possibly frighten the girl, just for kicks.

Maron paced around, scratching her head and trying to figure out where the front entrance of Capsule Corp was when she spotted a very angry man scrutinizing her.

She was decent looking, he had to give her that, but she had a sharp look to her face and her eyes were slightly crossed and dazed, as if she needed glasses and was having a difficult time seeing two inches beyond her pointed nose. He noted she was also very stupid looking. She couldn't be related to Bulma. Her clothes were far from decent, covering little and showing her cleavage. And something about her tits looked unnatural.

He immediately concluded that this woman must be a hooker.

"Oh. Hey shortie. Have you seen Yamcha?" the girl said in a nasally voice. "I'm bored. I wanted to hang out with him today, but he isn't answering my calls! Maybe he can't find the front door either…"

She noticed this weird man had a funny hairstyle, and he was short. She absentmindedly giggled at that. She might have found him to be handsome if he wasn't making such a mean and scary face at her.

"Hey, you're short. You remind me of Krillin! I'll bet you're just as sweet as him!" she giggled.

She did not just compare him to that bald midget! Vegeta wanted this dumb girl away from _his_ home, _now_, even if that meant he would need to scrape the remains of her mutilated body from the lawn.

"Don't you have a street corner to occupy?" he snidely said.

"What?" Maron blinked.

"Get out of my sight and go back to your brothel."

"Broth? Like, as in, soup?"

How stupid was this human? She was just asking to die.

* * *

Bulma had happened to be running a quick errand as she walked through the rear of Capsule Corp when she heard talking, and her heart leapt when she was certain she had heard a familiar deep chilling voice rattling from somewhere outside. She looked out the window, and to her great delight she spotted spiky black hair.

Her errand was forgotten completely as she was close to sprinting, hoping she could at least talk to him lest he would take flight and leave.

Vegeta was resisting the urge to kill the blue haired dunce in front of him when he cringed. He could sense the presence of the temptress, and he could soon feel a prickling sensation spreading on the back of his neck as his hair stood on edge. He didn't turn around as she approached, and she marched right up and stood to his immediate left, facing him.

He felt the static-like tension fissuring in the very air around him. He swallowed hard as he saw her out of the corner of his eye. It had been a while since he'd last seen her, and she looked great, which wasn't surprising. But after being absent from her home, seeing her again stirred something in him. It was oddly relieving to see her again. That relief he felt somehow didn't annoy him as much as it probably should have.

She looked very happy to see him, her face gleaming. She was overlooking any pain or sadness he had caused her with his absence. She was just happy that he was back in her life. She was elated, and he couldn't understand why when he had been less than kind to her.

Bulma masked a frown when she saw Maron, whom she despised, but seeing Vegeta again made her smile from ear to ear despite the unwanted company, and she almost completely forgot about the younger woman.

"Hey, Vegeta," Bulma said, squaring her shoulders back and displaying the highest degree of self-assuredness. He was taken aback by her smoldering confidence. Despite what had passed between them and his avoidance of her, she was completely relaxed and at ease. The last time he had seen her she had been squirming around helplessly, and he had been completely in control, but now she had such a degree of confidence that he was both impressed and intimidated. How was it possible for one person to be so intriguing and infuriating?

He suddenly felt a pang of nervousness, but he hid his unease behind his usual scowl. She was so comfortable around him, and she was the only one who could force him to turn his head to the side and glance away, and he did just that. He usually held his eye contact with whomever he was speaking to, but not always her. Against her it was difficult to win a staring contest, and now he could only look away.

"Did you get in some good training wherever you were?" Bulma asked, then she looked over his torn and dirty clothes, chiding, "Ugh, those will have to be thrown away."

Vegeta remained silent, so Bulma casually turned her attention away from him. Her voice was reserved as she addressed Maron, introducing her to Vegeta only to be courteous, "This is Maron."

A muscle beneath his eye twitched with his annoyance. He didn't care who this woman was. He scoffed, "Moron? What an appropriate name."

Bulma had to force back a laugh as she went on with the introductory, "I'm sure this prick hasn't introduced himself to you, right, Maron? This is Vegeta. He doesn't bathe a lot and he's a freeloader, and he sucks at kissing, so I'd advise you against asking him on a date."

Bulma was only casting him in a bad light and making him seem like an unfavorable candidate for a dating partner as a way of telling Maron to keep her hands off him, but Vegeta did not notice Bulma's territorial behavior. He glared at the heiress with a mixture of horror and hatred.

Maron wiggled a few dainty fingers at him. "Hi, Veggie-tah."

He turned and stalked away, discomforted by the smothering tension he could feel between him and Bulma, which she seemed unaware of. She called after him, "Mom just made some crepes, so go help yourself to them if you like. I'm sure you're hungry!"

Bulma wished she could have Maron escorted from the property immediately, but to be polite she said, "So, Maron, did you need something? Do you have a Capsule Corp product that needs to be repaired?"

"Um… No. I came here looking for Yamcha. He said he has a friend at Capsule Corp so here I am! Is he here?"

Bulma's demeanor went sour. "He just left for a trip to Mars," she lied.

Maron pouted, "Aw, darn!" She began to walk away, calling over her shoulder, "Well, thanks, Auntie! I gotta go!" She then ran right into the middle of the street and flagged down a man driving a sports car, and she promptly hitched a ride with the stranger.

Bulma could feel her blood pulsing in her temples. "Auntie?"

As the car sped off, Bulma prayed Maron was looking in the side mirror so she would see that she was being given the finger by the heiress. As Bulma marched back inside the house, she murmured, "That dumb bitch! She's not going to look half as good as I do at this age!"

Her bitterness was quickly overlooked as, to her delight, she saw that Vegeta was lurking in the kitchen as she entered, though he had not touched any of the food on the table.

He had been waiting for Bulma, and now he watched her, keeping his emotions reserved. He did not want to be throttled by the strangling tension between them, which she seemed oblivious to. She was exceedingly comfortable, while he did not want to show any weakness around her, so he hid his discomfort with a blank expression. He had expected there to be an irreparable awkwardness between them, but there was nothing but that incredible tension which made him high-strung.

"I didn't know your planet served door to door prostitutes," he spoke of Maron. "I hope that common whore's womb is never put to use."

Bulma nodded, "I agree."

"When I rule over this planet and your people, she'll be the first to go."

"C'mon, don't waste your time and energy on that bimbo. Besides, dumb girls like her have their purposes. They make _me_ look better!"

He couldn't disagree.

Before he could evade her interrogations, she cut to the chase and said, "Hey, about that kiss…" she noticed him go tense, and she wore a proud sneer as she added with finality, "I'm not sorry for it."

"I'm not sorry for my attempt at crushing you to death."

"And I bet you're not sorry about everything else you did to me. Like lying on top of me and giving me a love bite."

He ignored that statement. "You told that prostitute-" he went silent and struggled to contain his mixed feelings of anger and embarrassment.

"I told her what?"

"Is your memory that bad?" he criticized.

"Oh, are you mad that I told her you're a bad kisser? You know it's true."

"I don't care about your misconceptions on my refusal to take part in your stupid human affections. I don't want you blurting that out to everyone. From now on you will not speak a word of anything I do to you."

Her heart thumped in her chest at his words. Was he saying he was going to do more lewd things to her? "Finally admitting you can't resist me?" she prodded.

"I hate you the least, but only because I need to make use of you." His answer was vague, and he went on, "Though it mostly falls beneath my notice, you don't cower away from me. Or anyone else. It's annoying."

Could that have been another compliment? Bulma was overjoyed. "What else do you like about me?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Well. There are a few things I like about you. Just a few," she said, and a muscle beneath his eye twitched when she added, "You're cute. You look like Badtz-Maru."

What the fuck was that? It did not sound like a warrior's name. Confusion clouded his face, which was lifted and generated into anger as Bulma explained, "He's a Sanrio character, just like Hello Kitty."

"Don't affiliate me with that mascot of shame!"

"Well _sorry_, but it's true. Your hair looks just like that penguin's. Seriously. Just like it."

Before a vein in his temple could burst from his boiling rage, Bulma added with honesty, "Well, I also have to admit I admire your pride as a Saiyan."

Now_ that_ was a compliment. This was something no one had ever told him before. Her words meant more to him than she would ever know, and at that moment he knew he would not forget them. He'd had nothing in his life but his pride, and she was willing to value that. He was left wondering why he had spent more than two months away from her now that he remembered he needed her for this, for the reassurance she gave him.

Suddenly he could see that it might be unfair for her if he was planning to use her for his own personal gain. But that wouldn't deter him. He assured himself that she wanted him for her own selfish interests as well. In terms of selfishness they would be matched perfectly. And through his selfishness he somehow had to learn to be selfless. It was an odd playing field he was entering, but he was sure he would be able to accomplish his goals. And with it he would be rewarded with not just the ascension he had been wanting, but with what he could employ with the physical aspects of this strange relationship.

He faced her completely to say, "I'll tell you now, I'm not interested in you. I'm only interested in what you can provide me with." _Specifically, your body_, he thought with a morbid sneer, thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her.

Bulma was confused. "What are you talking about?"

He ignored her question, continuing to list his demands, "Don't expect to latch on to me like a suckling infant, and I don't want you to impose your mating habits on me." _Not until I initiate it_, he promised himself. "But above all else, don't coddle me."

"Cuddle?"

"Coddle!"

"So it's alright to cuddle with you, then?"

He did not respond, he only felt sweat building on the back of his neck. He could handle the idea of sex, but not sentiment. But he was convinced he needed to learn this sentimentality garbage in the hopes of reaching his goals. He didn't know how to go about with learning how to partake in such shameful things, though. The thought of cuddling with her was numbing and nauseating.

Bulma grabbed an apple from a bowl on the table and casually leaned on the counter next to him, biting into the fruit. "Just a few months ago you had me pinned here, breathing down my neck and speaking evil things to me," she recalled. "That was mean."

He said nothing.

"And then you did all those naughty things to me in the Gravity Room. Had you been trying to come on to me?"

"What an outlandish assumption! No!" But with a sinister grin he said, "I would not have to _try_. I would succeed. Even if it would kill you."

"Oh. So you're a necrophiliac."

She could see that his temper was escalating, and she smiled smugly at having annoyed him. She took another bite into her apple, not bothered by his steadily rising rage.

"So that freak was here, wasn't he?" he said through grinding teeth.

She went on with chewing the fruit in her mouth as she said, "Yamcha?"

"What a thoroughly annoying bastard."

"We were just talking about our relationship. Yeah, I guess it was just closure. I'm glad he came over and we cleared that mess up."

Glad he came over? Vegeta took the meaning as something else, and he was instantly mad. He did not want to hear of this bullshit concerning Yamcha, and the last thing he wanted was for Bulma to crawl back to him.

He surmised that he would continue to tempt her and get her to forget about Yamcha, and focus every bit of her attention on the Prince of Saiyans.

He contemptuously said, "So, you couldn't last without your precious weakling. You sicken me."

"Hey, don't get jealous, jerk! Nothing happened! Why do you care anyway? Hm? I thought you and I were just friends." She added to tease him, "I wonder, if Yamcha and I got back together, if you would get-"

The apple toppled from her hand as he whirled around her, putting himself in front of her while he pushed her against the counter, blocking her off. His hands settled on her forearms, locking her where she was. The way he had her positioned was like a replay of when he had roughly forced her against the counter months ago, muttering his threats to her, only now this time they were face to face, and this time she could see the cruelty in his eyes and the readiness to strike her down as a predator would without hesitation. She quickly lost her breath under that intense glare he wore.

He was satisfied when he sensed her anxiety and felt her heartbeat quicken.

"Still pining after that worthless human now?" the contempt rang clear in his voice. "You have someone much more important to appease."

"And who could that be?"

"Myself, you imbecile! Who else?"

"Well, me for one! My priorities always come first!"

He shot one hand up and ran the palm of his hand across her collarbone, succeeding in silencing her and making her swallow nervously. Any resistance she might have had left her in an instant.

"Not anymore."

"Well see about that when I dominate you... in my bed," she husked.

"I'm not talking about that!"

"So you aren't denying that I'd be the more dominant one?"

He spitefully laughed, "There's no way you could ever dominate me."

"You want to bet? Why don't we find out then?"

He had already fondled her, so he reasoned that doing more lecherous acts to torture her would not be out of line. He lowered his hand and prodded at her breast, and she jolted. He quickly discovered she especially squirmed around when he brushed his hands over her chest and neck, and he was no longer afraid to touch her there now. He would never harm her. Though he had the urge for something else.

Her temperature was raised quickly, her shoulders and chest burning almost unbearably, while he didn't seem too uncomfortable. Once again he was assertive and commanding, and scary. He had her bending her back against the surface of the counter behind her, leaning into it, her lower back pressed into the sharp edge.

She made a throaty whining sound, which he frowned at hearing. She could be so _loud_. He was only touching her.

She refused to look away from him as he continued feeling her up freely, boldly holding her eye contact. He admired that quality in her and how she could still manage to have some defiance against him.

He methodically and ruthlessly felt her up at his leisure, and she didn't fight back. To her his sexually intoxicating aggressiveness was captivating and it was more than enough to cancel out all fear she had. He wore a cruel expression on his face, but she saw a faint fire flicker in his hardened eyes, fleeting for a moment before it was gone. That look told her he was more than just curious about this primal urge – he was enjoying it. She wanted to see that look again.

She inched her face closer to him and started off with a closed-mouth kiss against his cheek to prepare him for what was to come. He didn't seem to care, he was too enraptured in fondling her to punish her for a kiss on the cheek.

She moved in again, this time targeting his mouth and catching his bottom lip between hers. She pulled away by only a few centimeters before she aimed closer to the side of his mouth and tugged on his lip with her teeth, demanding he retaliate and smiling into the kiss, knowing he would feel her amusement against his own mouth.

He had tolerated this insufferable treatment well, but he could stand it no longer when he felt her run her tongue over his bottom lip. He pulled away and gave her a warning glare. She tried to make another advancement, but he jerked his head to the side, swerving away from her tiresome kisses. His glare hardened.

She huffed, "You need practice kissing a girl. You suck. A lot." She swept her tongue over her mouth before offering, "You can get your experience from me, if you're nice."

"What gives you the idea that I would want you to suffocate me with your filthy mouth?" he said, disgusted.

"Oh, maybe I was right to think that you're _afraid _to kiss me."

His frown intensified. He saw it as a challenge. This would be unavoidable to prove her wrong. This kissing shit couldn't be too awful, could it? It was just contact with her skin, he reasoned.

He said nothing, but a muscle in the corner of his mouth twitched, giving her the signal and allowing her to make her move.

Too bad she missed the hint entirely.

Instead he was caught by the suddenly commanding look in her eyes, and he didn't notice her drop her forearm to his waist. She kept her eyes on his as she slid her hand down the front of his pants. He jolted on the spot and looked down in horror.

"Indecent woman!"

"Don't be embarrassed! So what if I want to get a feel? You're feeling me up right now."

"I was just probing your body for vulnerable areas and estimating what would be the easiest way to kill you," he lied. "I have the right to do whatever I want with you. You may not do the same with me!"

Before she could move her hand lower, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her hand out of his pants. She laughed, and that laughter of hers added to his aggravation. Didn't she have any shame?

Having lost interest in this game, he peeled himself away from her, internally deciding he would need to start wearing belts so she would need to fight to get her hands in his pants.

"You started this. Don't be a sore loser just because I got you all excited!" Bulma said, looking down below his waist, observing, "See? You really enjoyed that, didn't you? You're all swollen and stiff."

He raised his shoulders closer to his neck, wishing he could take his anger out on someone rather than her. He considered tracking that Maron dunce down and blasting her.

Bulma pinched her nose between her thumb and finger, with her other hand swatting at the air. "Gross! You smell awful, and you're covered in dirt. You need to take a bath, Stinky." Then, to his mortification, she suggested, "How about we take one together?"

He quickly stormed out of the room, deciding it would indeed be a good idea to take a shower - by himself, of course - lest she would humiliate him again. He didn't need to look back at her as he stalked away to know she wore that victorious smirk on her lips. He could almost feel her smile radiating, and it was pissing him off.

But what angered him the most was the audacity she had to mock him by saying he sucked at kissing. That made him less than happy.

He would have to prove her wrong.


	21. Chapter 21

Vegeta could smell the alcohol on her breath from a mile away - not that he would need that distance to smell it, not when he was up in her face.

Bulma had been lounging in her study, watching a movie while seated on her comfortable club chair; a spacious piece of furniture that could seat three people squashed into it, its surface decorated with a hideous floral design patterned onto the fabric. The heiress had been guzzling down her strawberry vodka cocktail that she had been saving for a special occasion when Vegeta barged into the room unannounced. He marched up to her, blocking off her view of the small television set as he stood in front of her. She had asked him what he wanted, but he gave her no clear answer. He would not tell her what he demanded of her now.

What he wanted was to prove himself against her earlier challenge, although he dreaded what it was he needed to do. There was no way he could blatantly voice his intentions, and he didn't know how to initiate this hideous kissing shit, but he assured himself that he would be as violent and rough as he could be with her, and he expected her to find it gratifying.

"You're drinking again," he finally said, the contempt clear in his voice. She was not nearly as drunk as she had been the last time, but he was not fond of the demeanor she had whenever she was intoxicated.

"Strawberry cocktail. You want any?" she offered, holding the bottle out to him.

He showed her a deplorable frown, and that registered as a 'no' to Bulma.

"I deserve this," she slurred. "I'm rewarding myself for getting your upgrade done." She took another swig from the bottle, wiping the liquid from her mouth which turned up into a smile as she added, "And to celebrate our friendship… and our first kiss."

His upper lip curled into a snarl. God damn, why the hell did she have to bring that up so carelessly? He would have liked to blame the alcohol, but she was always like this, so infuriatingly open and loud-mouthed.

He observed the woman before him critically. She was wearing almost nothing, at least to his standards; a flimsy miniskirt and a snug spaghetti strap top. For a moment he wondered if now that she was intoxicated he could take advantage of her drunkenness and get away with screwing her. But he decided it would be much more interesting when she was not completely smashed. That way she would remember every vivid detail of his savagery. And he intended to be as savage as he could be to silence her irritating libido, as well as his own.

She was lazing around in her seat, trying to peer around him to watch the movie on the television, but he was in her way. He reproachfully noted her lackadaisical behavior and snidely said to her, "Don't get comfortable. I have a few more jobs set in mind for you, and I expect you to get started on them immediately."

"Like what?"

Fucking her, for one thing, was somewhere near the top of his to-do list. He pushed the thought into the far recesses of his mind, trying not to dwell on his interest in getting laid.

"My armor will have to be repaired," he answered.

"You mean that stinky old thing you wore for a year straight, with all those holes in it?"

His grimace hardened, and this time she took that as a 'yes'.

She pondered for a moment. She had felt the armor in her own hands when she had washed it half a year ago, and aside from the memory of the terrible stench clinging to it, she remembered it had been made from some sort of stretchy material not of the Earth. It could conform perfectly to the shape of Vegeta's torso, and when it was not expanded it was rock solid. It was a perplexing piece of equipment and much more advanced than any sort of armor on her planet. She had no idea how to fix it, but because she was a genius she figured it wouldn't be impossible for her to figure it out.

"Alright, then. You want that dark blue wetsuit thing fixed too, right? I might have to take your measurements."

He felt sweat building on his scalp at this grim proposition. Just the thought of her fingers having free reign over him made him uneasy.

"But if I'm going to do all this work for you, you'll have to do something for me in return." _Like doing me_, she thought with a smile, downing some more vodka.

"I have granted you enough luxuries, your life being one of them." Though knowing she might likely make a lewd request, his curiosity got the better of him, and he inquired with an irritated tone, "What the hell do you want now?"

She loafed around on her chair, speaking timidly, "Well… I'd like you to hold my hand, or hug me, since we're, like, dating and all… And you weren't here for Valentine's Day. We have a lot of catching up to do."

He defiantly bellowed, "We are not and will never be coupled, woman!"

"Hey, you ass! Can't you cut a girl some slack and entertain my feelings at least?"

"No."

"And after I worked so hard for you and I'm so generous to you! Tending to your self-inflicted injuries, upgrading your training equipment…"

"For your servitude, you are allowed to keep your life."

She drunkenly shifted around on the chair, growing very moody and annoyed with him. "Could you move? I'm trying to watch this."

The television could not be more interesting than him! He expected to receive her full attention.

He turned his head to glance at the tv behind him, hatred in his glare. "What is this garbage?" he demanded.

"Romantic comedy," Bulma answered.

Another romantic comedy? Good god it looked _disgusting_. The couple speaking their sweet nothings to each other on the screen made him sick. The way they looked into each others' eyes and whispered their false promises disgusted him. Was this the sort of 'romance' these Earthlings took part in? It was so pathetic it was almost funny. Now he could see why it was called a romantic _comedy_.

He would never partake in this shit. Not unless he could add a barbaric twist to it.

He shut the television set off by kicking at the power button with his boot, though he struck with too much force and the entire tv fell to the floor with a loud thud, and it promptly broke. But he was met with the same effect – satisfaction and glad to be rid of the distraction. He was especially satisfied when Bulma pursed her lip to stifle an enraged shriek, but she did not mind too much that he had destroyed her tv. She had many television sets to spare, and now she was free to ogle the man standing less than one foot away from her.

With a mocking laugh he said, "Other than making yourself look like a complete fool, what would you accomplish by making me partake in your human affection? Why would you want to clutch my hand?"

"Well, it feels nice," she explained.

"Feels _nice_?" With one quick movement he snatched her hand from her lap and crushed his fingers around hers, squeezing roughly. "Does this feel _nice_ to you?"

"Not when you squeeze so hard!" she complained.

To her astonishment he relaxed his grip a little, and she observed aloud, "Hey, you have soft fingers."

He quickly released her hand and chided, "Do you know how many people I've killed by my hand? And now, of all things, you want to _hold_ my hand." Such a notion seemed ridiculous and suicidal to him, and he could not mask his amusement as he laughed sinisterly, "Do you realize you could literally be putting your life in my hands?"

"You're not going to hurt me," she said confidently.

He clenched his knuckles, flexing the muscles and tendons in both hands to let her know of his readiness to kill, and she could hear his joints crackling. "Your naivety is sickening. Do you know how much blood has been spilled on these hands?" he said, a seething resentment audible in his voice.

Not phased nor afraid, Bulma responded with a smile, reasoning, "Not much, I'm guessing, since you wear gloves. The blood didn't actually touch your hands, right?"

His anger subsided and mellowed out into contempt. "You're right. I preferred not to get tainted blood on me."

She flirtily eyed his hands as she insinuated, "I'm sure you can do some amazing things with your hands. I'll bet you can manage to be gentle with those rough fingers of yours."

"Aside from gently tearing you limb from limb, I doubt it."

She rolled her eyes and snorted through her nose. He did not back away as he continued to hover over her, so she asked, "Well? What are you going to do now? Why'd you come here?"

He had come here with a purpose in mind – to restore his honor. He was beyond pissed that she had insulted him by saying he was a bad kisser, and in front of that 'Moron' hooker, too. Even if he saw it as nothing more than a ridiculous activity for foolish human couples to engage in, nobody had the right to criticize his ability. And now he needed to redeem himself and cement his place as the Prince of all Saiyans in her mind.

There was no way he could bring it up directly, so he chose to insult her. "Your harpy mouth had a taste like poison."

She was quick to become enraged. "What! Look who's talking!" she shrieked, berating him, "Your mouth tastes like blood! I almost gagged!"

He was growing more irate as she went on insulting him further, "I only kissed you because I pitied you. Poor stinky guy who's never had a girlfriend, I felt you deserved to be kissed at least once in your life. You should be glad your first kiss was with the universe's most delicate flower!"

"A snapping and vulgar loud-mouthed flower!"

She could find nothing to say in protest, and her lips formed a pout once again.

Rewarded with her silence, he took his initiative and knelt down so his face was inches away from hers. He pointed to his mouth, taunting, "Try to do it again. I dare you." With a lopsided sneer he issued a false promise of his own, "Maybe if you succeed, I'll embrace you, as you wanted."

Was he for real? It sounded too good to be true. Her heart rate increased, and she broke her eye contact with him as she stared at his mouth, interested in his proposition. Her alcoholic drink forgotten entirely, she closed her eyes and leaned forward to gently press her lips against his.

She was alarmed when she crashed down against her chair. She would have yelped, but the full weight of his chest against her crushed her lungs. He didn't take his mouth from hers as he settled himself between her legs, gripping her jaw in his hand and forcing her lips to part.

This time he reciprocated the kiss – violently. It was hardly anything she would consider a kiss, more vicious and savage than affectionate, if there was even any affection in his actions at all. It was more like he was mauling her with the way he was sinking his teeth into her lip. She had never been bitten during a kiss before, and it both hurt and turned her on instantly.

He decided he might as well entertain himself and get in a little groping, as he was already doing something he considered shameful. He forced his hands under her shirt and was temporarily disgusted by the feel of her bra under his hands, remembering when she had said something about her breasts swinging around if she didn't wear one, but that was forgotten as he worked his fingers underneath the material and felt around. Her reaction was immediate. A leg jerked and she shuddered. She put up no resistance, opening her mouth for him and sighing against his skin, but he didn't take the open invitation to explore the inside of her mouth.

He in turn was satisfied by the control he had over pleasing her. He could stop at any moment if he wanted to be cruel, but he would not, not when he was enjoying this too.

He sank his teeth into her skin again, and not realizing what he was doing he rolled his tongue over her bottom lip, tasting for blood. To his dismay there was none. He could need to bite harder.

As he did, he could taste the alcohol on her mouth. What had she said it was, strawberry flavored? It was putrid, sweet and sticky on his tongue and slightly tangy. He broke away from her mouth to lick her along her jaw line. He didn't know why he did it, only that he might have been curious to see if her skin tasted better than the alcohol on her lips.

He had no idea that what he was doing was driving her wild. It was so barbaric and unrefined, and above all else it was so damn sexy.

He didn't want any sort of relationship with her now. He wanted nothing more than to have her wriggling helplessly under his advancements. And so he forced himself to stop and he pulled away from her, sitting on his knees on the chair. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, disgusted that he could still taste the foul sticky sweet drink and dismayed that he could not cleanse his palate. He glared down at her, waiting for her to assess his skill.

Bulma sat there panting and she licked her own swollen lip. She could have told him the truth - that it had been much more than simply enjoyable, but it might have been the most intense kiss she had ever received. She had been used to the tender and hesitant kisses of Yamcha, but this was something entirely different and new in her book. She immediately decided she liked it, and she wanted more.

But she didn't want it to be the last kiss she would receive from him. So she decided to play it off and appear unimpressed, that way he would want to redeem himself. "That was not awful, but you still need a little work."

That was still not an acceptable response. He clenched his fists, looking incredibly pissed off. _He_ had certainly not hated it.

Bulma drunkenly giggled, "You did that because you love me, don't you!"

He cringed further away from her, horrified.

"Aren't you going to hug me now?"

"_No_," he snapped back, inadvertently twitching and averting his eyes from her. His eyes landed on the atrocious floral pattern on the chair, and he was temporarily distracted by the hideous sight.

She pouted angrily, sitting up and moving closer to him. Vegeta shifted even further away from her and recoiled as she maneuvered herself, crawling closer to him until she was sitting above him.

He was glad he had remembered to throw a belt around his pants, because her hands quickly wound up at his waist. He froze.

Through grinding teeth he hissed, "You sicken me!"

She continued her task of trying to unhook his belt. Her drunken fingers fumbled around and she made no progress. He saw her attempts to be pathetic and laughable. He knew she would not be able to shove her hand down his pants again and do whatever the hell it was she was intending to do.

He had to find out what she had in mind, not that he was interested in doing it or anything. He swallowed, then ground out, "What exactly are you trying to do?"

"Free you from this belt."

He made a sour face. "Why?"

She looked up at him with curious blue eyes. "Dummy, why do you think?"

He winced, but his unease was quickly replaced with a conceited smirk. "Are you going to blow me?" He wouldn't be opposed to that.

She gave him her most mischievous sneer, "Maybe after you give me what I want." After that kiss, she was instantly curious to find out what else he could do with his mouth. Though she did not expect him to actually do it, nor was she planning to give him a blowjob in return. She was only teasing him, but he didn't need to know that.

She especially felt justified to tease him after his two month absence. She had missed him, and she wanted to see if she could do as much as she could to him before he would run off again.

Suddenly he was not prepared for her willingness, especially if she was planning to receive something in return. He quickly became wary of this vexing situation he found himself in.

He was mortified when she stopped trying to undo his belt and instead pulled her skirt up. His eyes widened at the gruesome sight before him.

"I know how much Hello Kitty embarrasses you. I changed into these right after you returned. I wanted to show you!" she winked.

Hello Kitty _underpants_, vibrant pink, sickeningly so, surrounded by lace. He felt as if he would puke. If her intention was to arouse him, she had failed miserably. Nothing was less arousing than seeing that cartoon cat's blank face that made him consider gouging his eyes out.

Her voice played on meek as she teased, "Don't you want to make this disappear?"

Sickened, he forced his eyes away from her panties and stared at the wall of the room.

All demurity left her voice when she commanded, "Take it off for me."

By this point he was sweating and he felt a sick feeling in his abdomen. If her underwear wasn't pink and if that disturbing Hello Kitty face wasn't staring back at him with the sinister glare of Satan incarnate, he would have ripped her panties off by now, but only to give her false hope that he would give her what she wanted. As soon as she would give in and anticipate his next course of action, he would promptly refrain from doing anything and stalk from the room, leaving her in agony and sexually frustrated. But he was shaken at the calculating cruelty she displayed in preemptively wearing those panties just to antagonize him.

Somehow she seemed to overcome her inebriation, taking advantage of his torment and working her fingers to his belt again. He was appalled when she undid his belt in one quick motion. She was not as drunk as he had thought. She never took her eyes off his, hypnotizing him under her unfaltering and powerful glare which he felt nauseous under.

He was beyond horrified as she slipped her hand in his pants and her fingers quickly found what she had been seeking. He was astonished, could say nothing but gape at the hand that was teasing him. She did not need to stroke or massage him to have complete control over him, she only lightly traced her fingertips along his glans. It was enough to weaken him and send his body temperature to sweltering.

She briefly glanced down, satisfied to see how her handiwork had affected him and a wicked grin spread across her lips. His entire body had stiffened and he was sweating profusely. She looked back at him and held her eye contact. He didn't resist the feel good sensation of it, but he wore a wincing expression, though not from pain. She was so dark and commanding and he was hating her for what she was doing, yet marveling at her fingers that were not curiously exploring, but she felt around with a definitive purpose. She was clearly an expert with such control and precision.

He wanted to voice his unease but he could only release an open-mouthed sigh at the feeling rippling through the core of his being and reverberating through every part of him. But as much as he was enjoying this, he didn't want her to feel free to do whatever she wanted. He had to make her stop, and knowing how her defenses were weakened through lechery and her foolish human sentimentality, he used it against her. He was both hating and wanting her, a mixture of clashing emotions that he could only contend with by taking control and exploiting her.

He motivated himself to reach a hand up to her, grabbing her by her shirt and pulling her down to his face. He kissed her again, much more forcefully and violently than before, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and breaking the skin before shoving his tongue between her lips, running it over the space between the inside of her bottom lip and over her lower gums. To his delight, he tasted blood this time. Spurred on by the effectiveness of his actions, he licked along her bottom lip with such unrestrained confidence that Bulma completely fell into a daze. Intermittently he would substitute his tongue to scrape his teeth along her mouth while with his free hand he reached around her and clawed at her ass, just to see if that would hurt or ignite pleasure in her.

She had to stop fondling him at the intensity of it paired with the sharp throbbing pain in her bottom lip, a pain that dulled and was muted into numbness as it was replaced with gratification when he swiped his tongue across her mouth. She was mesmerized by the feeling of the heat from his tongue which sought bloodshed more than it sought to satisfy her. She had expected his lips to be hard and rough, but they were surprisingly soft. It was in their movements that they were rough, carnivorous even, but she liked the pull of his teeth clashing against her delicate skin and the way his tongue glided over her for a taste of her blood.

She pulled her hand out from his pants to reach up to his face for better leverage and giving herself in to his unkind kisses. She timidly let her tongue graze his, and she could feel the frown that quickly crossed his mouth.

Swaying, her perfect posture was forgotten as she slumped back and allowed him to do as he wanted, focusing on the feeling of his body shoved up against her imposingly, and every small movement he made set her on edge, from the way he might shift his leg or allow his unoccupied hand to roam over her skin, while his other hand firmly held her by her jaw to allow himself access to her mouth.

More than he liked the feeling of kissing her, he was just glad he had gotten her to stop. When he finally pulled away, he didn't wipe his mouth off this time. He licked his lips which remained in a constant frown.

Both were close to panting as they stared at each other for a long time, neither betraying their thoughts to each other with their matching stubborn glares. He was expecting her to compliment his technique, but she said nothing. He would have been disappointed, but for now he could do without a vocal confirmation. He'd felt her reaction, and she had more than liked it.

But he was still unhappy that she had shoved her hand down his pants and felt around at her leisure. It felt amazing, and he wanted her to do much more with her hands, all in due time. But he wanted her to do it entirely on his terms.

But although it had felt pretty damn stimulating, he did not like that she felt free to do whatever she liked to his body. And above that, it unsettled him that she was so knowledgeable about his anatomy, succeeding in completely turning him on. It did not sit well with him, not at all.

He stood up and didn't turn to face her, still unforgiving. Pure evil was in his voice as he rasped in his most sinister tone, his back still to her, "I'll make you pay for that." He fled from the room, marching away with that regal stride of his.

She didn't know what he meant by that, but she couldn't wait to find out.


	22. Chapter 22

Since his return to Capsule Corp, Bulma was beginning to grow suspicious.

Vegeta had dedicated only a few hours to his training the following day. The heiress had been monitoring the Gravitron, and Vegeta had not once trained anywhere near 1,000Gs. He remained under a constant 500Gs, far below what he had been accustomed to.

But what aroused her suspicion the most was how the rest of his time was spent antagonizing her relentlessly. He would follow her around the house, casting mean remarks her way and giving her that cruel smirk of his whenever she would retaliate. She could not fend him off with her own cutting remarks, and now it seemed her impure advancements could not scare him away or intimidate him for long.

Now he would laugh in her face and say things that enraged her. She assumed that perhaps he was interested in engaging in lewd acts with her, and she took his endless taunting as him being interested in a relationship with her.

He sought something like that, but it was not for conventional reasons. He did not care for romantic bullshit, not that he understood the concept of something so ridiculous. He was interested in his own strength, and that was what he was seeking through her.

She, on the other hand, could not stop thinking about that kiss. She had not been so drunk as to forget everything, although she almost regretted showing him her panties and shoving her hand down his pants and fondling him. But what had stuck in her mind was the way he retaliated against her and finally kissed her, even if it was just to weaken her defenses and to stop her from advancing on him.

Her lip was left bruised and swollen with a little mark where he had broken the skin, but she saw it as an injury from battle, hoping it would be the first of many physical battles they would fight using their mouths, aside from their verbal scuffles.

Having finished up dinner, Bulma was loitering in the family room, and Vegeta had stalked after her and he began interrogating her with questions. He was talking to her now, but she wasn't listening. She was noticing the way his mouth moved angrily, and she was thinking about that kiss again.

"Are you deaf?"

At the harsh chiding of his voice, she was pulled out of her fantasy. "Oh, sorry. Were you saying something?"

"How many allies does Kakarott have?"

Bulma scrutinized him. He had been starting to ask strange questions as well, which made her suspicion grow. "Allies?"

"You would say friends. Loved ones." He made a sickened face.

"Well, there's Chi Chi and Gohan, and the Ox King, Krillin… Yamcha, Puar, and Oolong, if you can even count that annoying pig… Tien, Chiaotzu, that freak Roshi, Launch… I don't know if you could consider Piccolo to be one of his friends, seeing as he's a demon king and all."

Vegeta snorted through his nose with contempt. If Goku needed a handful of loved ones to become a Super Saiyan, Vegeta decided he would need only one, being the Prince of all Saiyans. One person would suffice to serve his elite status. And that one person would have to be Bulma.

There was a lot more he wanted to ask her. For one thing, he wanted to know how Goku had managed to care for an Earth woman, and how the hell he had managed to court her. But his pride would not allow him to ask. He would have to figure this out on his own, promising himself he would be rewarded in the end with both the immeasurable strength he sought and the sight of her nude body that he could do whatever he wished of with.

And if he should ask her such things, it might betray his intentions and she would know of what he had in mind for her. She was a smart woman, she would figure it out. He half cursed that intelligence she had. She would not make this easy. But then again, he did like a challenge.

"Why did you want to know how many loved ones Goku has?" Bulma asked, raising an eyebrow. "Going to add them to your hit list?"

He only sneered at her, not wanting to deter her from suspecting that.

Bulma continued to watch him suspiciously before she broached on a touchy subject, "Was that kiss from last night just a casual thing to you, or did it mean something more?"

He glared at her, no trace of amusement or vulnerability in his scowl. "I did that to put an end to your tiresome drivel. A vulgar woman like yourself can only be silenced through lecherous means."

"Meaning you gave me what I wanted," she said smugly.

He did not respond, remaining silent as he recalled the kiss. He had actually not hated teething at the flesh of her mouth, to his surprise. And he had liked that his actions had silenced her, and she had been so into it that she had been unable to speak. All in all, this kissing shit wasn't too unbearable. And if he could get her to shut up and stop fondling him, he would do it again.

"There's something I want to ask you," Bulma said. "You always go on about how you're the Prince of all Saiyans, right? Do you say that to remind everyone and yourself of who you are, or is it because you can't accept that you're one of the last of your kind?"

Alarmed at what she was saying, he winced and looked as if his feelings had been maimed. "Why are you asking me this?" he demanded in his most demonic tone.

She felt sorry for him, but it was something she felt she had to know. "You're lonely. Even if you deny it, I can tell. You miss your people. Hell, if I was the lone survivor of mankind, and a princess to boot, I would go crazy. I don't think I could accept that I'm the only one left, and I would miss having my loyal subjects pamper me." Her voice became meek when she admitted, "I'm sorry for you."

"Don't be!" he snapped, giving her a cruel laugh, "What does it matter? Everyone else was weak. They deserved to die."

"Nobody deserves that, and nobody deserves the hard life you've lived."

"Of course, nobody other than myself deserves to be the Prince of all Saiyans!"

She scowled at him. "Why are you so detached from feeling compassion?"

She could only deduce that he couldn't help i;, he was a prince, he was born to feel entitled to everything and feeling like he was better than everyone. And after living an oppressed and lonely life, he had grown cold and must have developed a narcissism streak to cope with the horrors he had lived through. He didn't understand the way others felt, he only knew how to fend for and live for himself.

He didn't respond, so she consoled, "I'm your friend now, you don't have to be alone anymore."

He cringed at hearing this, although somehow her words were extremely comforting, like this was something he needed to be reassured of. Somehow she managed to say things that he wanted to hear, unless it was a vulgar comment.

"You know, you're more human than you know," she added with a smile upon noticing his reaction to her condolences.

"Don't compare me to your worthless species," he responded, insulted.

"Chill out. Don't you realize we're similar, and not just biologically? You have feelings too." She eyed him up and down, adding, "I am sure we're sexually compatible, maybe outstandingly so."

He scowled. "I am not going to be your personal guinea pig just so you can ascertain that theory."

"I'll bet you wish you would find out, but you're just too scared to ask."

"If I ever wanted to find out, I would not _ask_ for your approval. I would force you to comply."

"Ugh! Are you saying you would rape me?" she said, disgusted.

"I'm not going to lay a hand on someone as filthy as you," he lied. While he didn't care to force himself on her, he knew that when he would inevitably try to make a move, she would be more than willing for it.

"Filthy? Look who's talking, you big smelly ape! At least I take a shower every day!"

His scowl intensified, and she asked, "Have you been using those deodorants I bought for you? The prescription strength ones?"

He hissed through his teeth and turned his head away from her, trying to hide his extreme discomfort. He hated that she was treating him like a child and coddling him, and hating that she always insulted his body odor. Hoping to get her to stop pestering him about it, he had tried using the deodorant once – and he hated it. He opted to shower every day instead.

"You haven't tried out the new upgrade, have you?" she asked.

"Right now it's unnecessary," he said gruffly.

She was delighted. "You mean you're close to becoming a Super Saiyan now?"

With a conceited sense of self-assuredness, he answered, "You could put it that way."

"So then that upgrade was useless, huh? I did all that work for nothing," she said, crestfallen.

"Now you know how it feels."

"Prick."

Bulma grabbed a few leftover candy hearts from a bowl on a shelf and plopped down on the sofa, when Vegeta crinkled his nose up and asked, "What the hell is with this fragrant tree?" He motioned toward a dead-looking Christmas tree in the corner of the room, which had a string of colorful lights wrapped around the branches tightly, as if they were strangling the plant. He'd seen the thing before, but he'd never cared to ask why it was there. But now the decayed stench of it was pervasive to his sense of smell, and it was beginning to bother him.

Bulma warned him, "Don't go blasting things around it. These trees catch fire easily."

"Then why decorate it with electrical lights? Wouldn't that set it aflame? Sounds counterproductive. Stupid Earthlings."

Bulma dropped all her candy hearts as she leapt up, exclaiming, "Oh, I almost forgot!" She bolted to the tree, kneeling down and fishing among the lower branches while Vegeta looked on in shock. He suspected she might be about to entertain him by lighting herself and the tree on fire. Knowing these humans and their impractical rituals, it would not surprise him.

She stalked over to him, unable to hide her excitement as she handed a gift-wrapped box to him. "We kept the tree in here just for you." She held the box out to him in front of his face, "I got this for you. A Christmas gift."

He stared at the offering in disgust, noticing the wrapping paper was decorated with sparkling pink hearts.

"Go on, then. Open it!"

Her excitement and eagerness unsettled him, and he did not fail to see the wry smile on her lips. He snatched the box from her and stared at the hideous wrapping paper.

"Aren't you going to give me a present in return?" she said.

"I have graced you with my presence. You're lucky I've given you that."

"Presents? Oh… pres_ence_… very funny."

But that was even better than a materialistic gift. He had no obligation to stay and live at her home, but he had returned after his two-month absence. She was quite happy with something as simple as that.

"Well? I don't have all day, you know! Open it!" she said. He made no move to open the box, so she reached her hand out to the gift, "Alright then, I'll have to open it for you."

"Keep your hands away!" he shouted, holding the gift out of her reach. He was not inclined to find out what was concealed inside the box. He had a bad feeling.

Reluctantly he ripped the wrapping paper off with one quick swipe of his hand. Immediately his eyes met with the photographed naked ass of a woman plastered on the cover of a DVD box. He stared in horror as his eyes read the bright flashy letters above the pair of buttocks: Girls Gone Wild!

The DVD rattled in his hand that was quivering with rage, and he immediately recalled the night he had been sitting on the sofa and that horrible commercial had flashed across the television scene. And Bulma had remembered how uneasy he had been at seeing such a vulgar display, and now she was exploiting him again, and it was all for her own sadistic amusement. What a horribly cruel and conniving succubus!

"Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to buy this? I went out on a limb for you just so you could relieve your sexual frustration. The cashier gave me a weird look, until I explained to him that I was buying this for my _boyfriend_!" Bulma said proudly, then with a laugh she admitted, "Naw, I'm kidding. I bought it online."

His extreme anger was evident, but Bulma only laughed. "I was thinking you could watch it and learn how to please a lady. Unless you'd like to watch it with me."

She was fibbing. She had bought the film as a prank to tease him, and his reaction was exactly what she wanted.

The Girls Gone Wild DVD was promptly chucked across the room as Vegeta stalked away, muttering a thousand alien curses under his breath, while Bulma watched him leave with a mean smile on her face.

He did not care to watch a display involving naked Earth women asses. If he was ever going to see a naked human ass, he had long ago decided it would have to be Bulma's. And thanks to her constant teasing, he wanted that to happen pretty damn soon, both to punish her and to satiate himself. And he would definitely not wait for her approval.

* * *

For several days he kept up his abnormal routine, training for only a few hours each day before continuing to hound Bulma and asking her odd questions. She did notice that he stopped threatening to take her life and he ceased insulting her intelligence, though instead he opted to simply call her 'nasty', 'lewd', and 'vulgar', as always.

While she did like the attention he was giving her, she was growing wary of this strange and befuddling pursuit. She wanted to know what he was up to, and why he was going out of his way to bother her more than ever. She suspected he wanted to court her, but he was evasive and calculating, and not the type to ask for something that he felt entitled to receiving.

But she was just as stubborn. She expected him to make the first move, and she hoped he would get so hard-up that he would crawl to her and beg her to be his. Imagining such an event taking place made her giddy, though she knew that waiting for it to actually happen might be unrealistic. He seemed to not know how to handle women, and he was close to bashful around her whenever she enticed him and flaunted herself around him. If he wasn't going to make the first move, she decided she would need to approach him and demand some sort of relationship out of him.

On one particularly busy morning Bulma was in the kitchen with her mother. The heiress had just finished a plate of waffles drizzled in syrup and she set to drain the last of her coffee loaded with sugar. She would need the sugar high for that day – she had to assist her father with a troubling component for a new Capsule Corp aircraft, then she would spend the rest of her day brainstorming over the task of repairing Vegeta's battle armor. The remainder of her free time would go into flirting with her freeloading house guest, whom she also considered to be her self-proclaimed soon-to-be boyfriend.

On the screen of the beat-up television set sitting on the kitchen counter was an exercise program. The women clad in skin-tight apparel were lying on their sides and spreading their legs as they lifted one leg straight up into the air. Such a display left little to the imagination. Bunny hummed along to the shoddy techno music playing in the background while Bulma watched the program with contempt, her thoughts immediately heading back to Yamcha. She still wasn't over the fact that he didn't want her anymore.

Bunny began arranging some flowers in a vase on the island counter as she conversed with her daughter, "I am so happy that Vegeta's back. I wonder where he was?"

"Who knows. He just takes off whenever he wants to without telling anybody," Bulma said bitterly, not wanting to admit to her mother that she had missed him during his absence.

"He's such a mystery man, and such a hard worker!"

"And such a jerk. He's been getting lazy and skipping out on his training lately, but he's been spending a lot more time bothering me. Who can blame him? I'm such an irresistible babe."

"Well, I hope you won't mind if I take him out sometime," Bunny chirped gleefully. "I'd like to show him that new bakery with all those delicious cakes he loves!"

"He does _not_ like cake. Haven't you noticed how he shies away from you when you try to shove them down his throat?" Bulma scoffed, "Jeez, I bet to him you're much more intimidating than Frieza."

"Well, I never did see him take any food out of the freezer, so maybe he's afraid of it."

Bulma ran her hand across her face, wondering how her mother could be such an airhead. "_Frieza_, the alien monster I told you about!"

Bunny scratched her head, thinking very hard and trying to remember what it was her daughter had once said about aliens and spaceships and traveling across the universe for Dragon Balls, and the blonde became very confused.

Bulma ignored her dazed mother to consider aloud, "You know, I bet Vegeta hasn't really been around a lot of girls, so maybe he doesn't know how to interact with us. He's such a geek, he probably likes beating people up more than he likes sex."

Bunny pried nosily, "Speaking of sex, have you gotten that man to-"

Bulma covered her ears with her hands and practically roared, "I can't believe you're asking me this! Stop it!"

"Oh, don't be such a prude! I know you'll try to lure that man into marrying you! You're thirty now, and I would like some grandchildren before it's too late and you go through menopause!"

Bulma was thoroughly offended, clenching her teeth and cursing her running mouth for bringing this conversation on herself, and cursing her mother's nosiness.

Vegeta stalked into the kitchen, drawn into the room by the scent of food, and Bulma shot her mother a glare to warn her not to repeat the shameful conversation in front of the Saiyan.

He sat down at his usual spot at the table, slamming his fist against the surface to alert Bunny to his royal presence as he commanded, "Cretin, bring me my meal immediately."

Bulma scowled at him. "That's no way to talk to my mom, Vegeta!"

"Must you be so snobbish, dear?" chided Bunny.

"Mom! He just insulted you! Don't you even care?"

"He's just a little grumpy, that's all. I'm sure he just had a bad day." She turned her attention on Vegeta, and as if she were speaking to a toddler she cooed to him, "Isn't that right, you poor, sweet, sensitive boy?"

Vegeta looked murderous, trying to will himself not to destroy the blonde, gnashing his teeth together in agitation.

Casually deterring Vegeta from his bout of violent anger, Bulma waved to the exercise program on the tv, teasingly suggesting, "Hey Vegeta, I know how Goku became a Super Saiyan. He watched this show and he memorized all the moves. You should do it, too." She snorted as she imagined him doing leg-ups and squats and jumping jacks like the women on the program.

Vegeta took one look at the screen and he frowned to show his disgust. It would not surprise him if the younger Saiyan actually did watch this garbage and pranced around, reenacting the hideous acrobatics. But he knew this could never in a million years help him to ascend. Even the bizarre theory of adopting human compassion to lend him strength made much more sense to him.

Bulma was pleased to note that Vegeta did not seem to be interested in the exercise program, like Yamcha and Roshi would be. Her eyes wandered to him appreciatively as she brought her empty coffee mug to the sink. She watched as her mother delivered a plate of waffles and scrambled eggs to the grumpy Saiyan, while he did not even look at the blonde to acknowledge her, he only snarled at her, his eyes trained on his meal. This behavior was rude and offensive at best, yet Bulma found it to be funny and charming in a way. He was like an angry caveman as he sliced through his waffles with a knife and shoved the carved and severely maimed waffle chunks into his mouth. She imagined him having this barbaric etiquette as he hunted down wild animals in the woods, roasting them alive and meticulously carving their flesh to eat.

She laughed aloud at her imaginings, and she noticed his scowl deepen in response to her laughter. She knelt down to a cabinet to grab a poptart which she intended to bring into her lab and save as a snack for brunch, trying to keep her eyes on the Saiyan's face, but her perversity got the best of her. Her eyes wandered down as she fantasized about impure things she would like to do to this angry little man, beyond simply shoving her hand into his pants and feeling around.

As she abruptly stood up, she made no sound as the sharp corner of the counter made contact with her delicate face. But the pain was immediate. She slumped back down to the floor in stunned silence, reaching her hand up to her face, quickly realizing that she suffered blunt trauma to her fragile nose. As she felt the blood running through one of her nostrils and over her lips, she picked up a wailing cry as tears ran down her face to accompany the bloodshed.

Bunny rushed over to her daughter. "Oh sweetie! What happened to your face?"

"It's broken! My perfect nose is ruined!" Bulma wailed.

Above her mother's voice and above the high-pitched ringing in her ears, Bulma could hear the sound of Vegeta's cackling laughter. Her heart sank and began to hurt as much as her facial injury.

Bunny spun to face him, scolding, "This is nothing to be laughing about, young man!"

He was shocked into silence, astounded that this blonde dunce had spoken to him in this way. His astonishment was quickly replaced with hatred. He stood from his seat and marched over to them, standing above the mother and daughter pair.

He looked from Bulma to Bunny before he commanded, "Move, blondie."

Bunny didn't even look at him as she waved him off with her manicured nails, "I'll give you your cakes after I take care of this owchie. Why don't you bring a first aid kit here?"

He did _not_ want cakes, _ever_. His hatred for Bunny was growing by the minute. "I don't know which is more of a hindrance to you – your poor hearing, or your brain damage – nor do I care to find out. However, your mental incompetence does not give you the freedom to defy my commands. Don't dawdle around and get out of my sight!"

His yell was so fierce that Bunny got to her feet immediately. She hesitated as she looked over her sobbing daughter on the floor. "Well… as long as you know CPR, I'll let you handle this," Bunny said as she wandered from the kitchen, and on her way out her mind wandered as well, to thoughts of pastries and cakes.

CPR? That had nothing to do with alleviating a wound such as this. What a horrible, disgusting, offensive creature! Vegeta muttered under his breath, "Fucking idiot!"

Bulma had no way to defend her mother, as the heiress was preoccupied with sniffling in a crumpled heap on the floor. She was completely unaware of Vegeta standing over her, until he spoke, "Get up."

"I can't, asshole! It hurts so bad!" she wailed again as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks and a seething wave of pain spread through her face.

"Weakling. I can tell from here that this wound is nothing! Stop sobbing and get on your feet!"

Bulma did not speak, wiping her tears away and wondering how Vegeta could be such a jerk when she, the great and magnanimous Bulma Briefs, was clearly suffering a near-mortal injury – a fatal wound to her beauty, at least.

She began crying again as she feared the injury may have severely damaged her nose, maybe even requiring a rhinoplasty.

Vegeta groaned loudly. He did not want to do this. He was not the type to alleviate the wounds of a comrade. Especially after his years with Raditz and Nappa, he had learned to only laugh at the injuries others sustained and mocked them for being weak. He never wanted the stigma associated with showing concern for anyone other than himself.

But he reasoned that now would be a good training exercise to test the limits of his concern, to see how far he was getting with caring for this human – and, in other words, to see if he was getting closer to becoming a Super Saiyan. For that promised reward he would be willing to do something selfless.

He crouched down in front of her, and with his most unfriendly tone he ordered, "Show me."

"No!" Bulma refused stubbornly, hiding her injury under her hands.

"Don't behave like an infant! Do you want me to make your wound hurt much more severely?"

Wide-eyed with horror, Bulma was shocked that he would threaten her when she was in so much pain. Her bottom lip quivered but her eyes held her rage as she removed her hand from her face.

Her blood had been smeared all the way down to her chin, and her nose was red and swollen. Aside from the anger she harbored for him there was pain and hurt in her eyes.

He felt bad. Not for her pain, but that it was such a shame that this pretty face had been damaged. He almost felt sympathetic, and he was both unnerved and satisfied by the feeling, which he considered to be progress he was making.

His prognosis of the injury was immediate. He did not even have to touch her to gauge how serious the wound was. He gave another dark and morbid chuckle.

"Stop laughing!" Bulma savagely punched him in the arm. He barely even registered her attack.

He saw that the blood flow hadn't stopped when more blood trickled down over her top lip, so he reached a hand out and pinched the bridge of her nose, holding his tightened fingers in place like a vice. She shrieked at the added pain, "What are you doing! This hurts!"

He could hardly believe how childish she was acting. He snarled through his clenched teeth, "Shut up! Consider yourself lucky that this is not a fracture. You merely ruptured a blood vessel."

"Why are you squeezing my nose so hard, then? This hurts even more, you know!"

He gave her a vicious sneer. "That's precisely why I'm doing this."

Bulma gasped and accused, "I knew it! You're a sadist!"

It was only a false alibi he fashioned. He had endured this sort of injury countless times himself, and he was stopping the blood flow and allowing the blood time to clot. But he was glad to ward off her suspicions that he might be doing this to alleviate her wound. He rather liked for her to think his intentions were purely sadistic.

She wriggled around uncomfortably, and he warned her, "Don't squirm around. I might break your nose, and I can guarantee you I will enjoy it."

She was forced to remain still, silently resenting him with a hateful glare. With his free hand he reached out to her face and wiped some of her blood from her chin onto his thumb, and Bulma shivered, afraid. He smeared the blood between his thumb and index finger, examining its consistency. It was quite runny and had not coagulated yet. These fragile Earthlings bled much too easily.

Something about her bloodied face, while pitiful, was extremely alluring. He had to assume it was because it looked as if she had just gone into battle. She had a fighter's spirit, and seeing her like this was like a physical manifestation of her inner strength and determination, as if she had just fought a fierce war and accumulated an injury, but that alone was not enough to take the persistent and unfaltering fury out of her eyes.

But determination alone was not enough to win. He had learned that himself. And he imagined that if she crossed the androids, nothing could save her, not her hot-headedness or the insults sitting on her quick tongue.

To his disgust he felt a pang of that hideous urge, and for the first time he would have liked to kiss her. He was alarmed and ashamed by his own thoughts, denying them quickly. It felt so strange to suddenly want to partake in this human affection. How the hell could anyone manage to care for another and not feel embarrassed?

Goku could.

Vegeta grit his teeth. This would take some getting used to. But he would have to do it. And he would have to be a hell of a lot better at this compassion shit than Goku could ever hope to be.

He looked at her, considering it, but he decided against the act - for now. He knew it would probably hurt her if he kissed her at this moment when she was in so much pain.

It was an odd feeling. He admitted that he was sadistic, but he was not willing to hurt her just to satisfy that urge.

Both the urge and his odd empathetic reluctance to cause her further pain led him to conclude he was learning this compassion garbage. While it was a little unnerving to feel that he was emulating these human emotions, the end result would be worth it, and he would surpass that third-class mongrel. The realization was enough to set a victorious sneer across his mouth. He was convinced that caring for this woman, and thus becoming a Super Saiyan, would not be hard.

Through his fingers he felt that the throbbing pulse in Bulma's injured nose had settled down, and he released her. Without a word he stood and headed out of the room, not before she saw that smug gloating grin he wore. She did not understand what it implied, other than he likely enjoyed squeezing the bridge of her nose and adding to her pain. It was the sort of smile one wore after making a mean remark to another and ending up the victor in a verbal battle consisting of a witty play of words. It was a smile she often put on herself.

"You are a sadistic asshole!" she shrieked after him, but her complaint fell on deaf ears.

She reached her hand up to feel her nose. It was numb, but to her surprise it was no longer hurting too badly, and the bleeding had stopped. She was not the most skilled with assessing and treating busted noses, so she did not fully understand that if what he had done had hurt her or helped her. Had he been sadistic as he had said, or had he in actuality helped to alleviate her injury? Whatever the hell he had done, it seemed to have helped to lessen the pain of her injury.

A genuine smile graced her lips. Perhaps he wasn't_ such_ a cruel bastard, after all. She'd never imagined he'd be the type to help heal the wounds of another or to show any level of compassion to anyone other than himself. He seemed to have been remarkably considerate, although of course that consideration was cleverly hidden behind his vindictive demeanor.

But perhaps if he had been able to learn to help another, maybe he could be taught other things – to care, to love. She certainly hoped so, that her influence had rubbed off on him, and little by little she hoped he would learn to want what was natural to be desired.

If he was capable of this, maybe it wouldn't be impossible to hope for more out of this relationship they had.


	23. Chapter 23

"Do you have any idea what _I_ went through? I was attacked by dinosaurs, chased around by Frieza's goons, and I was turned into a toad! I had warts all over my body! Worst complexion ever! And to top it off, I didn't have any mascara!"

Gohan averted his eyes from the heiress, afraid of her seemingly endless ranting. Bulma crossed her arms and grumbled, her attention diverted to the spiky haired bastard leaning against a tree. She remarked, "Well, it looks like that guy had a rougher time than I did. His outfit is covered with holes, like he got hit with a wrecking ball multiple times or something." She asked Gohan, "Is it really okay that he's here with us? I mean, he's not going to attack us or anything, will he?"

She looked back at the alien man. He had his head turned away from the group, concentrating on something distant and unseen. He was trying to track Goku and Frieza's battle, but from such a distance it would be nearly impossible, especially when his ki sensing ability was still in its infancy. But at times he thought he could feel a flare-up of some sort of tremendous energy. Could a Super Saiyan be so powerful that their energy could be felt from light years away? Vegeta was intrigued, but above that he was envious.

Gohan had felt it too, just barely, but his concentration was broken when Bulma snapped her fingers in front of his nose. "Hey, snap out of it! I was asking you something!"

"Oh. I'm sorry," the five year old apologized bashfully, fearing her wrath.

Bulma knelt down close to the boy, with her hand shielding her mouth from Vegeta as she spoke, "Vegeta's not going to kill us, right? Is he a good guy now? Like, wasn't he your teammate or something?"

"It's alright, I guess," the young boy warily glanced at the Saiyan as he whispered to Bulma, "He kind of helped us out against Frieza, and he even saved my life."

"He did _what?_!"

"I don't think he's bad. Well, not like he used to be."

Perhaps it was because he was young and naïve, but Gohan truly believed Vegeta was no longer a threat. The child could not be able to explain it to the heiress – he could sense the evil in others, particularly such a purely malicious essence like Frieza's, which had nearly brought him to his knees. But in Vegeta, Gohan could feel the evil somehow seemed to have waned and subsided, not entirely, but by a great deal.

And by what he had overheard when Vegeta was dying, the young half-Saiyan had concluded that Frieza had corrupted the Saiyan prince and had molded his being into something monstrous. Gohan felt that maybe it wasn't his fault that he had done all those bad things in the past.

_Not all that bad, huh? _Bulma looked back at the stoic figure hunched against the tree. In her mind she quickly recalled her first impression of him from when she had seen him on the tv screen at the Kame house, catching only shaken glimpses of his fuzzy picture through the disrupted television static. She had taken an immediate disliking to him. She thought his hairstyle was ridiculous, along with his strange outfit. And he was short. By all accounts he looked like a total shrimp, standing at only about half a foot taller than Krillin, of course, that was excluding his gravity-defying spiked hair.

Now that she could get a good look at him, she could see that he was handsome under that menacing scowl he seemed to wear at all times. But there was a faint loneliness about him. He didn't belong here on this planet, let alone among their group, preferring instead to remain alone and isolated.

She considered what Gohan had said, and she wondered if this Saiyan could be trusted, and if he could ever live among the Earthlings, like Goku. But as she looked back at the group of Namekians, she could see their unease and the resentful and wary glances they shot at Vegeta.

This was one sad bastard who would never fit in, would never be liked or trusted, and would never be cared for. And he had to have known this. Maybe that was why he was so angry, because he was never given a chance. Maybe all he needed was to be shown some kindness.

She felt it would be interesting to see what would happen if she approached him kindly and boldly, without showing fear or intimidation or any bitterness for what he had done in the past. She didn't know how to go about approaching him, but then she noticed, _Hey, wait a minute. Why isn't he looking over here at me? Maybe he's embarrassed to look at the prettiest girl ever!_

She would need to say something to get his attention and include him in their group.

* * *

She reminisced to that day as she looked at him now. He was on the balcony outside the family room, his back to her, staring down at his Gravity Capsule that he had seldom been using as of late. The last rays of the setting sun hit his hardened face. He was wearing the battle damaged armor he had worn back then, the armor he had worn when he had died. The armor and the body suit underneath was pocketed with holes, the faint reddish brown bloodstains around the tattered edges of the hole above his heart and around his abdomen remained. The expandable armor was wrecked, with long jagged cracks stretching across its surface.

She wondered what he had endured to have sustained this damage, and the wounds inflicted on his body had to have been extremely painful. Her eyes always drifted to the chest plate and to the hole resting above his heart.

It had been a while since he had worn his battle armor, and seeing him in this unearthly uniform cemented the fact that he was not human, that he was an alien, and it was unnatural that he was here on this planet. Only by chance had he come to live on Earth. And she was glad for this unnatural fate that she had him in her life.

It pained her to know that she was the only one in his life to show him unconditional kindness. She was the only person who could look past that dark scowl to see that he was fascinating and amusing (although in a morbid and often frightening way), and he was fun to tease and embarrass and pick fights with. He brought out her fighting spirit and he complimented her with his cutting remarks, his cleverness, stubbornness and his self-centeredness.

She felt sad for him, that nobody else would have the patience nor would they care to know of what an interesting guy he was, but she also felt privileged that she was perhaps the only one to see that side of him beyond his harsh glare.

That harsh glare was now directed on her as he looked back at her over his shoulder, speaking gruffly, "You just harassed me an hour ago. What do you want now?"

She left her spot at the doorway, stepping out to the balcony and joining him at his side. "As I recall, _you_ were the one who sought me out! 'Repair my armor, Bulshit'!"

She freely looked over him from this proximity, remarking, "Can't you wear anything better? Though I do like how that big hole gives me a peek of your abs."

He ignored her compliment. "You need to fix this battle suit immediately." He looked at her, sneering, "Knowing how inadequate you are at even the simplest tasks, you will require several months to do it. You'd better get started right now. You have a deadline to meet, in case you haven't forgotten the arrival of those prophesized androids."

"You're asking for an awful lot from me, you know," she said, adding to impress him, "Why don't I just replicate an entirely new and improved battle suit for you?"

"Can you even do that?" he said in a patronizing tone.

"I could, maybe. Let's go into my lab and we'll see."

As he followed her, doubtful that she could pull off such a feat, he silently noted that her nose seemed to be much better now, and it was because of him that her injury was alleviated. She had him to thank for that, but she gave no thanks. He preferred it that way.

She asked, "What color should I make your underclothes? What's your favorite color? Pink, right?"

With finality in his tone he hissed, "If you make any part of my armor pink, your mother will suffer the consequences."

"Meaning?"

"I will do to her what I did to that creature I hunted down several months ago. You remember, don't you? I will tear her flesh off and leave her crumpled corpse in my room for you to discover."

"Oh, that dead bloody dinosaur you dumped in your bathtub? Yeah, well, while you're at it you may as well bathe yourself in my mom's blood, too. You really need a bath, even if it's just a blood bath. Even the smell of blood is better than your stinky body odor."

He shot her a hateful sideways glance as they entered her lab.

Examining his armor closely from where she stood, she looked over him thoroughly, which always unnerved him. Her eyes landed on his hair, and she said, "So, when you become a Super Saiyan, your hair will be blonde, right?"

_When_. He liked that she had said that. "Outward appearance means nothing to me. All I care about is strength."

"Sure. But I don't know if I can sit well with that. I like your hair the way it is now." Facing him fully, she elaborated, "I like you just the way you are."

He snorted. That wasn't such a bad compliment, though he would very much like for her to compliment his strength instead. If she would say something along the lines of 'You're the most powerful warrior who's ever lived, and you're much stronger than Goku', he would not at all mind repaying her with a sexual favor – of course, it would have to be something he would get more enjoyment out of than she would. He would like for her to blow him. He felt she would be very privileged to be allowed to take any part of him in her mouth.

"There's something I've been wondering," Bulma said, disrupting his fantasies and leaning closer to him, propping her elbows on her lab desk and resting her chin in her hands. "About that body suit you're wearing… How can you wear that skin-tight spandex without worrying about getting a hard-on?"

She was quickly met with his horrified grimace. "I do _not_ worry about that sort of thing during battle! This uniform is meant to be worn when fighting, not fornicating!"

"Oh, right, of course. Because you take it all off when you fornicate."

His face turned red with embarrassment and hatred, and he wondered if this nasty woman was worth all the trouble he was going through to learn to feel anything for her beyond contempt. While he certainly admired her, he could not understand how this person he respected could be so goddamn crude.

She left his side to paw through a cluttered cabinet at the other side of the room, her hands shuffling around through the disorganized mess, and he watched her. But mostly he watched the way her shorts fit snugly against her hips. He imagined how amusing it would be to shove her against the row of cabinets and force his hands onto that enticing ass, imagining how loudly she would shriek with surprise and retaliate angrily before she would whimper and beg for more.

He frowned at his thoughts. Her lewdness seemed to be rubbing off on him quite a bit. However, that fact didn't bother him so much anymore.

She returned with a roll of measuring tape in her hand, and she commanded, "I need to measure your armor while it's conformed to the shape of your torso. Keep your arms apart."

He gave her a nasty scowl, expressing to her that he would not tolerate and he would thwart any attempts she might make at feeling him up, but he complied. She pulled the measuring tape around his shoulders, chest, then his waist, while he remained perfectly still and composed.

She was amused by her findings. He was _tiny_. He was close to the same size as her, and she found that both funny and adorable. She had always been interested in men who were much larger and taller than her, but Vegeta was definitely an exception.

She was curious to find out how tall he was, so she dropped one end of the measuring tape down to the floor and raised the other end up to his head, measuring his height. His entire body stiffened and his scowl deepened.

She burst out into laughter. "I knew it! You're one inch shorter than me, not counting your hair. How cute." She tried to stifle her laughter behind her hand, but she could see that she had offended him.

His face burned scarlet with embarrassment and he ground out, "Height does not determine the outcome of a battle! If you must know, a warrior of my elite stature is fleeter in battle, not like lumbering fools such as Kakarott, or your scar-faced weakling." He chuckled darkly, "The fool was clearly much too slow to evade the saibaman that killed him."

Not the least bit offended by what he said – because it was the truth – Bulma nodded in accordance, "Right, the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

"You could put it that way."

"Though that doesn't apply to a guy with a big package," she said delightedly, eying him below his waist, "The bigger they are, the harder they _fuck_, right?"

He was horrified and rendered speechless, while she went on, "I'm sure that what you lack in height, you more than make up for with the length of your fierce mini warrior."

Curious, she took the measuring tape close to his crotch. He took a step back and roared, "What are you doing now!"

She advanced on him persistently. "Just measuring… So I can make a combative codpiece for you to wear to battle."

"I don't need one!" he snapped.

"Yes, you do! Look at this wetsuit you're wearing! It's snugly fitting your junk, and someone's bound to try to land a blow here! And I'm not talking about a blow job! I mean, the androids are probably going to be totally shameless bastards when you fight them and they'll use every dirty trick in the book against you. They'll definitely aim for your most vulnerable body parts!"

Her running mouth astounded him, and she managed to advance on him with the measuring tape, holding it up against him. He stared down at her, his lower lip quivering with his carefully contained rage.

"Wow, not bad," she said, "In this flaccid state, you're-"

She dropped the measuring tape onto her lab table, forgetting it entirely as he seized her by her ass and hauled her up to her desk, forcing her down into a painful position. He pushed his mouth onto hers to shut her up, and he succeeded. He did not offer any complaints when she hooked her legs around his waist.

He found that shutting her up this way was so satisfying, and he had to admit he was starting to enjoy this stupid kissing shit, especially when rewarded with her silence, but also appreciating the way her fingers clawed at him, clinging to him and desperately hoping for more. He liked the feeling of being wanted by her, and even more so he liked antagonizing her about it.

She let her tongue slip out from her mouth, grazing his top lip before she shoved it between his lips and into his mouth, touching the tip of his tongue with her own. Immediately he pulled away, exclaiming in horror, "What the fuck was that_?_!"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Jeez, do I have to spell it out for you? That was a kiss."

He didn't seem convinced. "That sharp tongue of yours should only be reserved for when you are speaking."

"Well, I like using my tongue for kissing! So learn to put up with it!"

He pulled a face, disgusted by how open and descriptive she was about everything. "I'm not partial to the idea of having a serpent's tongue anywhere near my mouth."

"Serpent's tongue? You've got to be joking."

"Oh, my mistake. I recant, perhaps it would be more suitable to compare you to a viper. I wouldn't at all be surprised if that tongue of yours is laced with venom, just as it is when you speak."

"Want me to prove otherwise?" she said boldly, her tongue gliding over her bottom lip to signify her challenge.

His frown hardened. He would not back out of this. He was always up for a challenge. "Let's see you try," he taunted.

She cupped his face in her hands and leaned in. But before her lips could land on his mouth, he jerked his head to the side. She pulled back and glared at him while he cackled, "Missed your mark? What miserable aim you have."

"Don't play this stupid game with me!"

"You're clearly outmatched against me, so I would say it's a no contest win on my end."

Her lips pursed into that familiar pout of hers, the one he was most fond of and enraptured by. He grasped her chin in his hand and brought her scowling face closer to his own. "Or maybe I should have a go at intercepting that foul mouth of yours?"

"Foul? You're such a-"

He cut her off as he roughly shoved his mouth over hers, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth. She let out a muffled gasp, and with her mouth gaped open in her surprise, around her jaw and cheekbones he gripped his fingers tighter like a vice, holding her mouth ajar as he pressed his tongue between her lips, swiping it along the roof of her mouth. She could only tremble helplessly as a series of shudders surged through her.

He drew back to look at her. Her eyebrows were pinched together in a frown, and she wore a pleading expression, her swollen mouth and dilated pupils registered that she wanted more, and she could tell he wanted more as well.

Feeling his engorged flesh against her, she exhaled, "Can I measure it now?"

He ignored her question, indulging in the sight before him. This damned human seemed to be so fertile at all times, and it was apparent that her body wanted more than this kissing crap.

"You want something from me, right?" he asked with a sneer. "A thorough pounding."

Her pleading expression did not falter, only intensifying as a blush tinted her cheeks, and she admitted, "Well, yeah. But I can't ask you for that."

"Go ahead and try. You might entertain me with your feeble begging."

She glanced away, running her tongue over her lip, deep in thought. Finally she answered in a serious tone, "I'd like to do more, but I don't think you're ready for it."

All amusement escaped his features as he frowned, a horrid looking scowl of pure hatred settling on his face. A fierce growl ripped through his throat, "What did you say?"

"I _said_, you're not rea- Ah! Wait!" she protested as he ripped the button clean off her shorts and he tore the entire zipper off, peeling the clothing from her hips. He gripped her by her thighs and forced her legs open. He was glad to see that the panties she was wearing today were not pink; they were a nice dark blue color.

He shoved his mouth onto hers again, but he was surprised when she pushed his face away, scolding, "No! I mean you're not ready for the commitment that goes along with it!"

"What a joke. Do you think I'm not prepared for anything, even something as worthless as this commitment garbage you preach? Do not insult me."

She swallowed a salivated lump of what was both cold fear and anticipation in her throat. "Well… I'd like for us to be official if we're going to do this."

"What do you mean by official?" he grabbed at the lace hem of her panties, snarling, "I'm officially pissed off."

She slapped his hand away. "Don't be an ass. I want you to take this seriously! Just hear me out and wait for a minute!"

He stopped what he was doing and glared up at her while she explained, "We have to be in a relationship. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm not going to sleep with just anybody."

"I am not just 'anybody'. I am the Prince of all Saiyans. You're lucky I'm doing this at all, although my intention in doing so is to merely silence your annoying shrieking."

She was silenced, all right, by that smoldering dark tone paired with the intense look of desire clouding his features. Not wanting to turn him down now that he seemed to really want her, she gave in, but silently concluding to herself that they were now officially together.

He turned his focus from her lower half as his hands examined her torso, and she swallowed again, this time with eagerness as she tingled all over, waiting to see what he would do.

She was wearing a button-up blouse, and Vegeta smiled connivingly at the poor choice of wardrobe. He ripped the blouse open with ease, sending its buttons flying everywhere and unveiling her delicate porcelain skin to his eager gaze. Bulma yelped in protest, giving him a resentful glare, but he only looked over her bare torso voraciously.

To his revulsion and disappointment he saw that her bra was a hot pink color. That did not sit well with him. That unsightly pink garment would need to disappear.

She saw that he was scrutinizing her bra with a hateful glare, knowing he was not pleased at seeing his least favorite color on her, and she warned him, "You'd better not rip this off if you know what's good for you!"

He was left amused at hearing her empty threats that she could in no way back up. He leaned in to pull a teethful of flesh from her shoulder into his mouth, aware that he would leave a nice bruise on her skin. She wriggled around feebly, though not completely disliking his roughness. When he tried to work his hands underneath her lingerie, she sat up and grabbed his hands, holding them in her own as she guided his fingers to her back. "Unhook it, you dork. This bra was expensive. I don't want you ruining it."

He was still wearing his gloves, not bothering to take them off as he chose not to follow her command. Instead he dug his fingers into her back, curling them into her soft flesh. The feeling of his gloved hands against her skin made her quiver.

"You don't want to see my perfect boobs?" she said with a pout, and he quickly put a stop to her tiresome commentary again with a rough kiss, flattening his tongue along her mouth and keeping her from speaking.

As she was distracted by his assault of vicious kisses, he reached for the measuring tape residing on the lab desk at her side. She did not pay any mind to what he was methodically doing behind her back with his hands, tying her limp wrists together with the measuring tape.

Eventually when she sought to grasp him with her hands, she realized he had bound her wrists together, not allowing her any free reign, and she pulled back in shock. "What a surprising kink, I had no idea you'd be the type into bondage! I like it!" She smiled devilishly as her eyes met with his furious glare, and she remarked, "Looks like you've regained some of that cockiness of yours, now after I've taught you how to kiss."

Raking his teeth across her neck and down to her collarbone as if he were an animal marking what he deemed to be his prey, he muttered something foul against her skin, which Bulma did not entirely catch under the sound of her heavy breathing, but she though she heard him mumble something involving 'most annoying shrieking harpy of the universe'.

Preoccupied with receiving his cruel kisses, she was unable to retaliate when he reached his right arm down to her hips, sliding his hand into her underwear. She quickly pulled away from him, relenting and breaking away from his mouth. But she could not voice any protests, only letting out a strained gasp when he slid his fingers between her slick folds, intrusively feeling around at his calculating and cruel leisure, while Bulma fell into a dizzy haze of absolute pleasure and contentedness, allowing him to do as he wished.

By his actions he was showing her that he could do whatever he wanted, conveying to her that he intended to be in control. And if he was going to do her eventually, he would need to chart her territory and get a feel of it.

He hid his disgust at how it felt down at the threshold to her receptive core – very wet, close to humid, although he did like the heat. And he primarily enjoyed that she submitted herself entirely in her surrender, breathing slow, heavy pants, or giving the occasional incoherent murmur as he was besetting her damp flesh with his twisting fingers. He would have liked to gloat at the way she twitched in response to the slow and excruciating anticipation he brought her, beleaguering her with his probing fingertips.

Then he stopped, and with one quick motion he pulled away from her, not palliating the longing he had set on her as he removed his hand, holding it up to his face and noticing the snot-like slime coating his gloved fingertips which now reeked of her desire for sex. He wiped his hand across her chest just under her collarbone, smearing a trail of her own wet lubricant across her skin, as if it were war paint.

She sat there, breathing heavily through her nose as he reached his hands behind her back and loosened the measuring tape binding her wrists together. He did it not to be kind or as a favor, but because he knew it would be unfavorable if she hobbled out of her lab in only her underwear, bound and undressed. Her parents would likely be suspicious.

She waited patiently, her body still trembling and racked with desire. But he did nothing more. She was left disappointed yet relieved. She expected him to flee from her now after what he had just done, but he pulled away from her and leaned against the desk at her side, folding his arms, guarded and watching her from the corner of his eye.

He crinkled his nose up, his nostrils flaring as his eyes wandered to his gloves again. He commented, "You're always nagging at me to bathe more often, yet your body is practically a breeding ground for slime and filth. You should heed your own advice."

Embarrassed, she retorted, "That's normal! It's just my body's reaction to what you were doing!"

"Oh, so that's proof of how much your body wants _me_, a super elite. I honestly can't say I blame you." To be mean and hoping to excuse himself from her suspicions that he might actually be physically attracted to her, he added, "Don't interpret what I have done to you as anything more. That was payback for the lewd fondling you had dealt me the other night."

While releasing her hands from the loosened measuring tape, through thick and slow pants she said, "Oh, yeah right. Don't just claim that it was payback. You know you enjoyed touching me inappropriately!" She rose from her position, sitting cross-legged on the lab table and pointing a thumb to her panties, "It's obvious you want this."

He couldn't disagree with that, but he still pulled a face at her obnoxious loud mouth. She clearly expected more out of him in return, and he was seeking something similar from her. He was met with acceptance, it was like a bitter taste in his mouth that just would not go away, but he had to endure it.

He did not want to openly admit it, that what they had was beyond friendship. But he considered it. He saw one appealing aspect of forming a relationship with her – she was Goku's friend, and it would be like he would be stealing her away from the younger Saiyan, in a sense. And through her he would rise to conquer his rival. If that required forming this petty human attachment, then so be it.

"I do not harbor any romantic ideas, so don't take this out of context," he said resentfully, "You're _officially_ a servant to my every whim. If I ever decide to use your body for vulgar purposes, you'll have to comply willingly. I know you would enjoy it, and if you want it so badly, I expect you to ask for it."

"I am _not_ your servant. If you're saying we're official now, I want you to refer to me as your _girlfriend_. I'm not your personal attendant, I am not your servant, and I am most certainly not going to be your sex slave!"

He grimaced at her. He couldn't understand why she would want this exclusive attachment with him. It was a foreign concept to him. He questioned, "Are you so fond of me that you would want to form this insignificant coupling at my expense?"

"Yes," she responded. "I told you how I feel about you. I like you, even though you're a stinky and mean bastard."

In a low, steady tone he blatantly asked, trying to hold his vomit in, "Are you infatuated with me? Do you love me?"

"I might be able to someday."

"Is that a no?"

What could she say without sounding like a fool? If she told him she had those sort of feelings for him, he might take it as ammunition to wound her heart, if he refused her.

"It's not an indefinite no," she answered.

He scowled. He expected her to feel the strongest of emotions for him, and he expected her to fawn over him completely.

He turned to face her fully, and she went still under his powerful glare as he muttered cruelly, "I will make you love me, and I will not give you anything in return."

More to convince herself, she said, "Yeah right. You know you love me."

"I do _not_," he bit back defensively.

"But you said you hate me the least."

"That may be true, but I still hate you."

She pointed out, "The _least_. That means something coming from someone like you, doesn't it? It's your way of saying you like me."

"We Saiyans do not love or care for one another. We generally see our spouses as weaklings. We kill the weak when we no longer need them," he replied, evading her question.

She frowned. "What are you saying? You no longer need me?"

No, that was not true. He needed her now, and he knew it.

"I think you care about me, at least," Bulma said, trying to reason with him.

"Strength is the only thing Saiyans care for. We revere strength, and the strongest are envied and worshipped."

He would not clarify that he was speaking of her in a way. He wouldn't mention that in her case he was talking about something he valued above physical strength. Brute strength was admired among Saiyans, but Vegeta personally admired internal strength, such as what Bulma had. He didn't actually admire anyone who was physically stronger than himself - he _hated_ them.

But one who would not back down, much like himself, he could relate to. Internal strength was much more admirable to him. And she exemplified a remarkable sense of that internal strength.

Growing frustrated, Bulma sighed. "Look, I want us to do this. I want us to be exclusive, not like this slave and master thing you seem to idealize. I want a real relationship. But you can't do it, can you?"

_You can't do it_, those words stung him, like a dark chant she had uttered, a curse. Nobody told him what he could or couldn't do!

He hated this. He felt that a part of him was actually becoming human. Just like Goku. But it was a requirement, a small sacrifice he may need to make to reach what he longed for.

Yet although he felt especially and aggravatingly human when around her – with the foreign emotions he was picking up and emulating unconsciously due to her influence – she also stirred that spark for battle in him, and she reminded him of who he was; the Saiyan prince, and he had goals and aspirations he set to reach at any cost, and she was willing to help him along the way.

He realized that to learn to care for her, he was willingly and openly chasing her. He realized this, but he felt no shame, not anymore. She was a worthy catch, and he would like to bed this shrieking woman soon, anyway. He might as well get the formalities out of the way.

"Why the long silence?" Bulma said, watching his contemplating expression. "You're considering it, aren't you?"

He said nothing, but his scowl deepened.

"You know I'm the only girl you'll ever want," Bulma pressed.

While he knew she was likely right about that claim, he had to say something mean. "Oh really. Can you prove it?"

"To do that, I'd have to take the rest of my clothes off, because once you get a look at my flawless body you'll never want anyone else. But I won't strip nude for you unless you do something to earn it."

"If I ever intend to see your frail mutant body, I'll strip you myself. I don't care to wait for your approval."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further?" she said, seeing his reply as him actively flirting with her.

"I might consider letting you blow me," he answered snidely, but it was an honest response.

"Only if you return the favor," she said, dropping her hand to his waist and feeling around his groin.

He snarled and lifted himself away from her, marching away to the other side of the lab desk and glaring at her from a safe distance. "Do not touch me in that way again," he said, while mentally adding, _Not unless you're prepared to open your mouth for it._

"Why not? You know I'll have to touch you there when I put it inside me. When that time comes I'll-"

"Before you offend me further, consider the position you're in."

"I know my position. I'll be on top."

He smeared his face into his palm, wishing he had beaten that instant transmission technique out of Goku. At times like this he hated being in the same room as this catty and vulgar woman. She always had something nasty to say, and he always felt incredibly uncomfortable.

Bulma said slyly, "If you like kissing me, you'll like having sex with me even more. I know how much you enjoy making out with me."

"I enjoy it almost as much as I like listening to your endless shrieking," he countered sarcastically.

"Oh, I know you like the sound of my voice too," she purred, stalking around the table to join him, and he suddenly felt a building wave of nausea as she boldly approached him. How could this woman not back down? And why in the hell was he intimidated by that determination of hers?

She spoke, "I know you want it." Eying him once again, she added, "I can see that 'Little Vegeta' would like it, too."

He didn't understand. 'Little Vegeta'?

And then he realized her meaning behind those words in the form of his still eager erection. She was talking about his phallus, dubbing it an offensive name – 'Little Vegeta'. _Little_!

_Vile woman!_ He turned away from her, speaking through gritted teeth, "As you have said yourself, I am sadistic. I was merely enjoying your agony at not being given what you wanted."

"Yes, that was very sadistic of you," Bulma agreed in accordance. "Well, we can do something about that. You'd like to be relieved of your hard-on, wouldn't you? I don't think I'd mind a little bedroom sadism, as long as you treat me gently and you don't leave me covered in bruises." She looked at her shoulder where he had bitten her. The blood vessels under the skin had ruptured and already the bruising of her flesh was visible. She frowned, imagining that if he got carried away, she would have to start wearing more conservative and unflattering clothing to hide the marks of passion.

The mutual attraction was definitely there; it was undeniably obvious that they both had carnal intentions for one another. The elevating sexual tension between them was close to unbearable, and he wanted to resolve that. But he was vigilant at the art of resistance. "I am not partial to the idea of the highly probable conception of a mutant resulting from your lewdness," he responded evasively. "You've seen Kakarott's brat. A demure and timid Saiyan, what a joke! That kid's very existence is a crime against nature."

He didn't actually loathe Gohan – in fact he had once gone out of his pompous way to help the brat back on Namek, though it was because he needed to make use of the boy's latent abilities against Frieza. He didn't hate the child, not even because he was Goku's offspring. If anything he was just a little envious of the boy's dormant powers. But Gohan would never bring them out. He was too gentle. He was half Earthling, and that gentleness of his was a mockery to the Saiyan race. And Vegeta was not fond of the idea of another half-Saiyan like Gohan coming into existence, if he ended up impregnating this woman.

"Wait a minute," Bulma asked, "Did you Saiyans ever use contraceptives? Birth control?"

Just what the hell was this nonsense she spoke of? He didn't fully understand, nor did he feel inclined to ask. But quickly in his mind he deduced that she was speaking of some sort of preventative method against pregnancy – that would explain why the scar-faced whelp had never fathered a child with her. Unless the woman was barren and unable to have children, or perhaps these Earthlings had poor fertility. That might explain why she seemed to be annoyingly in heat all the time, as her overzealousness and readiness to fornicate might give her ample opportunities to successfully conceive. Just the thought of it made him sick.

"Don't you ever have casual sex, just for the fun of it?" Bulma pressed.

He cringed at her words, thoroughly insulted. He patronized, "I have worked tirelessly to gain the strength I have. I have never wasted my time on anything I have found to be worthless, not that I would have been allowed any leisurely activities while constrained under a leash by that usurper. While you were conditioned to be spoiled and pampered, I have never had _fun_. Not unless you would count my employment of slaughtering millions. I had always found some entertainment in that." His voice darkened with malevolence as he sneered, "The idea of gaining more strength is more appealing to me than wasting my time on a woman."

Until now, that is.

_How could he openly and proudly admit to this? _Bulma thought, astounded. These Saiyans were a strange bunch, finding their strength more valuable than intimacy. Vegeta seemed to be the pompous prudish type to her, but she deemed that if he had been eager and ready to kill millions, perhaps he might have considered forcing himself on a woman.

She had her doubts. He appeared to be true to his word, that he hadn't cared to waste his time on a girl. Back on Namek he had barely even looked at her, and he hadn't spoken to her. She was an attractive woman, and it was clear he was attracted to her now, but he had seemed more interested in the Dragon Ball than her back then. If he had been such a lewd thug, he would have at the very least made some sort of catty remark to her, or shown a faint interest in her. While on her adventures with Goku, she had dealt with men who were interested in doing impure things to her – they were direct to approach her shamelessly, attempting to talk their way into getting into her pants.

She felt like she knew Vegeta well enough now that he would not bother to do that sort of thing, and he was stand-offish; he seemed to hate talking to others, looking down on them, and he was not approachable. In fact, he was damned scary.

But she didn't know of what he was capable of in the past. It was worth considering, and she felt that because he was the type who had expected to have everything handed to him, and because he had expressed an interest in having her blow him, that he had possibly not bothered to have sex with a woman, but he might have been inclined to receiving oral sex in the past - perhaps through force. He seemed to be more comfortable to that idea than going all the way.

She decided his sexual history wouldn't change things, nor would his previous life as a mass-murderer. He wasn't the same man he had been, and she had forgiven him. She decided to respect his privacy this time and not pester him on the subject. Besides, in her mind she wanted to believe she would be the first and only woman he would ever show an interest in.

Catching her pondering glazed expression, Vegeta turned from her, peeling his armor off and over his head, dropping it onto her lab desk. Shocked, at first Bulma thought he was undressing so they could fornicate, but he kept his tattered bodysuit on, as well as his gloves and boots.

He spoke of the armor he had tossed onto her desk, "Get started on repairing that."

"Wait," Bulma said before he could leave the room. "I just want to ask something. Are you happy with me? Do you like hanging around with me?"

As a matter of fact, he did – but just a little. It was a great way to kill time.

"You annoy me an awful lot," he said elusively.

"But as long as you're happy, I think we can make something work out."

He grunted in response. What a strange courtship game this was. He wanted to keep her at arm's length, while curious about engaging in lewd acts with her, and he was definitely interested in sex. She wanted it too, but on the condition that he would admit to the odd relationship they had.

"Come on, learn to relax a little! You're the strongest guy I know and the hardest worker, you deserve a break, and you deserve to have some fun for once in your life." She stepped closer to him, reaching out to him and touching his arm lightly, "It's fine if you're not ready for it. I just want to know if you're interested, as I'm interested in you."

He felt an incredible emotion welling up in him at her compliment. Her words were valuable. So she didn't just see him as someone to impose her feelings on; she valued his strength, and she was genuinely interested in him. And he silently valued her as well. She would not put up with being deemed as his slave or servant, and she deserved to be treated better than that.

Though this concept of human relationships evaded him completely. He didn't consider that they were in a petty relationship; he viewed what they had as a companionship. He saw her as more of a compatriot than a partner.

He kept his back to her, hesitating, turning his head to glance over his shoulder briefly, holding his eye contact with her for several seconds of tense silence. He turned his head away, before he admitted in his meanest voice, "While you're incredibly insufferable and annoying, you are a useful comrade to me."

"A comrade," Bulma repeated, a small smile forming on her lips.

He could almost feel her smiling through her tone, and he felt incredibly uneasy and almost ashamed at having admitted that to her. He began stalking from the room, snidely saying, "Feel privileged that you've managed to just barely rise above the rank of servitude. But you're still obligated to carry out my orders."

"Hey! I'm not obligated to do anything for you, jerk!" she called after him, but he had already retreated from the room, likely in the search for food.

She mulled over his words. This might have been the extent of what he could admit to their relationship, but it was still something. He was making progress. Did this mean he acknowledged and accepted her proposition, that they were official now?

_Comrade_. Well, it wasn't as good as 'girlfriend', but it was a start, and it was a hell of a lot better than 'servant woman'.


	24. Chapter 24

Vegeta had finally tried out the new upgrade, withstanding the force of 1,000 Gs crushing his body. He'd fared well, lasting a quarter of an hour before his body wore down to fatigue, and he'd resigned himself from his training. Though his resignation did not come before he succumbed to injuring his torso through a vicious attack from a training bot ramming into him (he ended up destroying the bot in a fit of rage). Adding to that ailment, he'd clamped his jaw shut during the impact, cutting at the inside of his cheek with his teeth and drawing blood.

It was a cold and cloudy morning with West City sheathed in a blanket of mist, and Bulma had been eating her breakfast alone in the family room, watching tv. Her attention was quickly diverted to Vegeta as he stormed in, a bruised and bloody mess, his body swaying slightly. Rather than demanding she take care of his injuries, he insisted she serve him some food.

"Do you always think with your stomach?" Bulma scolded, grabbing a few napkins from the table close to the wall at the far side of the room, then she proceeded to clean the blood from Vegeta's chin and the corner of his mouth. He didn't bother to fend her off, though he flinched – not at her touch, but at a discomforting thought pervading his mind. As she attended to him, her delicate fingers around his jaw and mouth, he thought about kissing her, to his disgust.

He decided instead, _Some_ _other time, perhaps when she inevitably makes another vulgar remark._

As Bulma worriedly looked over the rest of the injuries he had sustained, he turned his head away, grinding out, "I told you, don't coddle me."

She noticed the flesh on his chest was visibly bruising, and she squelched at seeing the discolored skin. She prodded at his chest with assessing fingers, and he leaned away, frowning at her. "You worrisome wench! It's nothing more than a collapsed rib!" he bitterly explained while faintly wincing. He could feel the intrusive rib pressing into his lung and it was beginning to annoy him. He turned his back on her as he reached one of his arms up to his chest, and he popped the displaced rib back into its proper place with a sickening crunch. He was not fully able to force back the cringing expression on his face. He had done this sort of thing many times, mending broken bones and dealing with dislocated joints on his own, but it was never fun to do.

Bulma shrieked, alarmed by what she had witnessed. "You can't just do that without proper medical attention!"

He didn't retort. But he noted that today she seemed to be in a foul mood. He found that funny. He was always up for the sport of taunting her, especially on the occasion when he held the advantage.

"I'll have to take a look at your injuries as soon as I've finished eating breakfast," Bulma insisted, sitting back at her spot on the sofa while he remained where he stood. "You know, maybe upgrading your little toy wasn't such a good idea. You're just going to end up smashing every bone in your body." Eying his skin-tight training shorts, she added with a sneer, "And I mean _every_ bone. Even Little Vegeta will get squashed."

With that horrible comment he lost his will to retaliate against her. He gave her his most hideous grimace, hissing under his breath, "You wretched woman!"

In an attempt to engage in conversation with him and to lighten the mood, Bulma said, "You like to call people names, huh? Have you come up with anything clever to say to those androids?"

He pulled his upper lip into a snarl, choosing to ignore her question. He stared at her plate of food on the small coffee table in front of her. If she wasn't going to serve his meal, he would just have to steal some for himself. He marched over to the sofa, hesitating for a moment before he chose to plop himself down, an angry wince settling on his face as the pain seared through his bruised chest again.

"How about toaster?" Bulma suggested, crossing her legs as she grabbed the remote and she began flipping through the channels.

Hardly listening to her, Vegeta snatched the plate from the table and he helped himself to the rest of Bulma's breakfast, while she went on explaining, "Toasters break all the time. Well, at least mine. I shoved too many poptarts into it."

_Oh, THAT thing_, Vegeta thought between bites of food. _A faulty machine that constantly breaks. I'll have to use that quip against those androids_.

His thoughts were interrupted when Bulma belted, "Hey! You jerk! That was _my_ breakfast!"

The plate was now cleared of food, and Vegeta casually tossed the bare dish onto the table in front of him, where it clattered loudly against the surface. He looked Bulma square in the eye and his mouth turned up into a mean gloating grin.

Seething with anger, Bulma muttered, "You are such a pompous pig!" Luckily for her she had brought her ritualistic mug of coffee along with her to the family room, as well as a small plate with two strawberry poptarts on it, which she had intended to save for brunch. She grabbed for them and she began eating them as a replacement for the breakfast that had been stolen from her by her selfish freeloading houseguest.

Recognizing the familiar unpleasant tangy smell, Vegeta shifted further away from her, but he made no move to leave. He felt he deserved to rest, and he was considering what sort of insults to use against the androids. And Bulma.

She settled herself further into the sofa, making herself extra comfortable, and Vegeta chided, "Why aren't you working on replicating my armor?"

"Uh, _hello_, it's only nine A.M., I have the rest of the day to worry about that. I came up here to relax and eat my breakfast, which you stole, by the way!"

"I did not _steal _it, not when it rightfully belonged to me. You failed to fetch my meal, so I chose to punish you by taking yours. That should teach you a lesson, and I hope you will be expedient to heed my commands from now on."

"Can't you learn to help yourself? And I didn't get your food because I was busy taking care of your injuries, if you hadn't noticed!" Bulma screeched.

Vegeta winced again, but this time at her loud shrieking. He knew that sooner or later his hearing would be permanently damaged, if he was to spend more time around this woman.

Through angry mouthfuls of her poptarts Bulma bit out, "There's one thing you're really good at, and that's making me worry about you. You've got a real knack for it."

"You've got a real knack for nonstop bitching."

He was delighted to see a twisted pout settle on her lips. Bulma didn't say anything as she snatched the remote and surfed through a list of programs she had recorded, deciding to exact her revenge and teach him a lesson by showing him a program that might unsettle him. Finally she found what she was looking for. With a triumphant grin she said, "I've been waiting to show this to you. This is what you'll have to go through if you keep letting yourself get hurt when you train so recklessly."

It was a program about extreme medical procedures – and it was uncensored. Bulma had to avert her eyes from the most gruesome footage, but Vegeta actually found it quite enjoyable to watch, avidly observing as mutilated and maimed patients had their limbs amputated, sometimes, as it was pointed out by the narrator, without anesthesia. Screams and hollers of pain sounded from the television, and the Saiyan enjoyed the violent display thoroughly.

Bulma frowned as she saw the keen intent in Vegeta's eyes. Showing him such a program seemed to have been counterproductive.

"Look," she said, "I don't want this stuff to happen to you, so I'd appreciate it if you would be more cautious when you train. Believe it or not, even though you're a jerk, I care about you, and I don't want you getting hurt or killed."

He took his eyes from the screen for a moment to glower at her, but she was not fazed. Having made eye contact with him, she took the opportunity to scoot closer to him across the sofa. He was a little annoyed when she reached her hands out to touch him.

"Besides, if Little Vegeta gets smashed to a pulp, we won't be able to consummate our relationship," she said suggestively, and Vegeta was quick to become disgusted. But he offered no resistance when Bulma pressed herself into him in a clinging embrace, while he endured it awkwardly, voicing his discomfort with a low growl. He chose to ignore her affections, pretending to have his focus on the television program, until she ran her hands over his chest and the nape of his neck, while leaving feather light kisses along his jaw, which he had set in place, his teeth clenched and his mouth drawn in a taught line. This bizarre woman could chew him out one moment, then the next thing he knew her shrieking would be silenced and she would readily impose her lewdness upon him. It was baffling. He had to be cautious of these unpredictable polar shifts in her mood.

He struggled to make it seem as if her touch didn't affect him, but he could only keep his front up for a few more moments before giving in and allowing himself to enjoy it. It wasn't so bad, being desired and wanted. He liked the exclusive attention she was giving him. He was so used to generating fear in others, frightening everyone away with his scowling face alone. But her – no, she wasn't afraid. And he was surprised that whenever he touched her she did not tremble with fear, but with anticipation. It actually felt better to generate desire in her rather than making her afraid.

He was not bothered when she moved herself to straddle his thighs, pausing to whip her bangs out of her face, and advantageously he took the moment of her reprieval to grab one of her buttocks, satisfied when she responsively quivered. She in turn dug her nails into his back, earning an irritated grunt from him at having his sore muscles clawed at, but she was forgiven when she drew her head close to him, nibbling on his earlobe and sucking it between her lips. He shuddered, not disliking the feeling, though it surprised him, he'd never considered that his ears could be erogenous. This woman clearly knew how to get under a man's skin, and while knowing that annoyed him a bit, he was more than glad that she chose to gift her skills upon him.

He was mildly disappointed when she ceased attending to his earlobe, but disappointment subsided into contentedness when she moved in to kiss him on his mouth, forcefully. He was taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness of her kisses, but it was an immediate turn-on, and he returned the favor by squeezing her ass harder and pulling her closer. And, this time, he allowed her to partake in using her tongue, not minding when she swept it along his gums. Her mouth tasted like coffee, which he preferred over the taste of that horrible sticky strawberry cocktail.

She pulled back from the kiss, a smile on her face. She kept her hands on his shoulders while her eyes roved down to his chest and torso. "Guess what color panties I'm wearing," she husked, not even trying to hide that she was ogling his body.

He scowled at her. Of course she had to ruin his enjoyment with her vulgar commentary. If she was trying to seduce him by talking about her underwear, she was failing. Although it got him thinking, and he quickly pictured her in different colored panties, and he grimaced at his lewd thoughts.

"Come on, guess," she persisted, finally drawing her eyes up to meet his. The look in her eyes was so sultry and alluring that he had to glance away.

Hoping to get her to shut up, he reluctantly mumbled in a tone filled with loathing, "Knowing you, you're probably wearing my least favorite color." That meant pink.

"Wrong!" Bulma said proudly, pulling her skirt up, "Invisible!"

To his absolute shock, he saw that she was not wearing any underwear.

He shoved her off his lap, roaring, "You lewd cretin! How dare you!"

From under her booming laughter, Bulma managed to say, "You touched me here, so it's alright to show you! And you're going to see it sooner or later anyway."

He was immediately traumatized at having seen what he considered to be her hideous naked flesh. Slipping his hands there and feeling around was one thing – staring at the grotesque bare monstrous Earthling genitalia was simply horrifying.

Disgusted and snarling, he tore his eyes away from her, choosing instead to look at the tv screen. It was a poor decision, for he instantly regretted it. On the program began a segment involving an ancient medical Earth practice he'd never heard of – maggot therapy.

There was a cluster of thousands of maggots spread across a gaping exposed wound on a man's leg. Emitted from the television speakers was an appalling amplified sloshing sound as the maggots squirmed around in the flesh, gorging themselves on the maimed tissue.

Vegeta had slowly come to repress and forget about the unsettling things he had seen, and now this was an unprovoked reminder of the slavery he had been forced into. The sight of death he had grown used to, it did not faze him, and he had at one point grown to like it. It was the fact that he had had his title stripped from him and he had been forced to clean up after Frieza's trash that made him nauseous, and he had often seen hordes of Frieza's decomposing victims covered in maggots and other writhing bottom feeders. Seeing this mass of maggots was only symbolic of what he had suffered through, having witnessed corpses bursting with the squirming insects made him sick, and even when he had come back to life on Namek there had been worms among him in his grave in the soil surrounding his body. It represented to him the ultimate shame he could endure, being forced into a life of servitude, then killed by Frieza's hand and disposed of like common trash. He was a prince, he was not meant to be discarded and forgotten so easily.

Bulma saw a slowly escalating rage building in his features. She misinterpreted that he was angry at having seen her naked lower half, and she quickly regretted her actions.

He watched the horror on the screen until the segment ended, then he stood and turned on his heel and strode out of the room. He was pissed. This was turning out to be an awful day. First he'd injured his body and his pride under the massive crushing weight of 1,000 Gs, lasting little more than fifteen minutes. Then the woman showed him her hideous bare flesh. And shortly after that he had endured a sudden revisiting of the past he'd been struggling to ignore. It only served as a reminder that he had a goal he needed to reach, and he needed to get back to his training.

Bulma was left utterly perplexed by his retreat, but she got to her feet and followed after him.

He was in the infirmary, pawing through a drawer filled with medical supplies, wearing a terrible scowl on his face. Bulma stood in the doorway, watching his erratic search. "Hey! What the hell's gotten into you?" she demanded.

He was searching for something to alleviate his fatigued muscled, intending to take care of his pain so he could get back to his training, both because he felt he was slipping behind and as a way to take his pent-up anger out through testing the limits of his ability. Such a torturous method of training had always served to be therapeutic to him.

"You're not looking for something to poison me with, are you?" Bulma asked. "Look, I'm sorry for flashing you, if that's what you're mad about."

He stopped his search, and he turned his head to glare at her. He had been so angry that he had not noticed her presence in the room.

"Get lost. This has nothing to do with you," he growled out.

"Uh, my death has _everything_ to do with me," Bulma said. Vegeta's anger lapsed and was clouded with confusion, and Bulma stated, "You're mad that I flashed you."

He was only partially angered by that. He would have said no, but he knew she would take his denial out of context, and she would perceive that he had enjoyed seeing her display of naked flesh.

"I am," he breathed out in a dark tone. "I was just about to show you a terror worse than hell, however…" he stopped mid-sentence to wince again at the aggravating pain searing through him.

"You're an idiot," Bulma chided, stalking over to him and swatting his hand from the drawer. Pointing to the infirmary bed, she commanded, "Sit down and I'll take care of your injuries, then you can show me this 'terror worse than hell.'" She couldn't help but snicker, thinking that his suggestion implied something sexually devious. If that was the case, she most certainly looked forward to it.

He snarled at her once again, but he didn't bother fighting against her. He sat down on the bed, resting his forearms on his knees. With Bulma occupied as she searched through the cabinet, Vegeta could have taken his sweet time looking her body over, as he generally did when her attention was not on him and he knew he would not get caught. But he kept his eyes trained on her face, scrutinizing her expression. He had a habit of suspiciously watching the emotions of others, as a way to tell if they had ill intentions, but there was no malice in her features, not a snide mocking smile on her mouth.

His anger faded as he observed her, and then something dawned upon him. It didn't matter anymore. The injustice he had been dealt, the cruelty he had suffered, as well as the cruelty he himself had dished out on the innocent, it would never go away, it would always be a part of who he was, and nothing he could do could change that, could ever help him to forget.

He'd always been alone, and years of solitude had hardened him into feeling contempt for the lives of others, and he loathed everyone other than himself. But he wasn't so alone anymore; here was someone who was willing to open herself up to him unconditionally. She didn't know the extent of what he had been through, but she recognized his pain. It was subtle, but she saw it, and he knew of her awareness to it.

It was natural to crave intimacy, but he had pushed the desire away and even feared it. He hated that he was wary, and he wanted to overcome his fear. After living a solitary life, suspicious and apprehensive of everyone, it came naturally for him to question the motives of those around him. If he let her in, would she betray him or take advantage of his weakness?

No, he knew she wouldn't. She would never exploit him or hurt him. She cared about him, and slowly he had come to see that. And, somehow, he'd learned to trust her.

That incredible feeling welled up inside him once again, and he suspected what it could be. It was not lust or desire, but he had no way to communicate what he felt. He hid his tempest of emotions well, but it was difficult to contain them. At some point he would need to release them, and she would have to bear the burden of them, because they were emotions he felt for her.

She rejoined him with a topical pain relieving ointment and an adhesive pad in tow. She sat at the edge of the bed next to him, her body turned in his direction. She set the adhesive pad down on the bed at her side, then she twisted the cap off the ointment, saying to him, "Where does it hurt? Your chest, right?"

He didn't answer, but his undivided attention was on her. He concentrated on her features with silent interest, tuning out his pain and forgetting his discomfort and his resentment. Instead that emotion surged through him, as well as longing. It was like he was looking at her for the first time with this emotion he felt, acknowledging that this woman was beautiful and intelligent, and she had such a profound inner strength that he could only marvel at. It was only right that she should be his.

She would offer herself to him as long as they were coupled. He was willing to accept her terms, as he wanted the exclusive commitment she was willing to give him. But in return he couldn't give her the romantic affectionate displays she idealized; it was far too trivial and shameful to him. He wouldn't mind if she imposed that affectionate behavior on him, but he couldn't respond to it in the way she might want him to. But admittedly he liked the physicality of what they had, and he would not mind being coupled with her, perhaps gradually and slowly over time he could grow comfortable with the idea. Simply put, he wanted her, for corporeal purposes. It was something that didn't need to be said aloud; he could show his accordance physically.

She noticed he was so immersed in looking over her, and she knew she had caught him. Still, she was taken aback by the intense concentration in his eyes as he looked at her, and she was just a little intimidated. She leaned back, almost stuttering, "What is it?"

He hated explaining himself to her, and speaking of such things was trivial to him, but he felt he owed her a warning. He didn't take his eyes off her as her name slowly rolled off his tongue, "I'm not human, Bulma. And you will never turn me into one. Never forget that."

He was letting her know she shouldn't expect a lot out of him, relationship-wise. But it wasn't as if she expected him to get down on his knees and profess his love for her – while that would be ideal, albeit a little creepy, her expectations were more realistic than that. "I know that already," she said, a little nervous and wondering what he was insinuating by saying this.

"And you also know that in the end I'll let you down, that your expectations in me will prove fruitless?" he asked sternly.

"No, you're wrong. You've proven that I can expect a lot from you. We all can."

"You know I'm not talking about _that_," he said, "This is about your growing attachment and sentimentality for me."

"So are you admitting that we have feelings for each other? You accept it now?"

He responded evasively, "If you're already considering such a notion, you may as well sign your death warrant. Saiyans kill anyone they don't care for."

"You haven't killed me, so that means you care for me, then. Am I right?"

He frowned. He was trying to warn her about the risk she was taking by involving herself with him, but she was just as stubborn as always. "You're naivety is annoying. You really don't understand what you're getting yourself into." He leaned forward, closer to her and muttering, "And it's too late for you to turn back, because now you've captured my interest."

Her responding pulse became unsteady at hearing this. Of course, she'd known he was interested, but a vocal confirmation from him was better than anything she'd hoped for. Her heart was racing at an unbearable rate at this point. What next? What was he going to do? Her breath hitched and caught in her throat when he shifted even closer to her, never taking his eyes off hers.

He couldn't convey his feelings properly. He only knew how to issue demands, and he did so, slowly husking under his breath, "I want you to blow me."

She had to lean away and blink a few times, as if to ascertain that he was serious. Aside from it being a selfish demand, it was the most verbal profession he'd given her that he wanted her. He'd hinted several times before that he wouldn't mind it, but now he said he _wanted_ it. From her. She felt herself quiver at this realization.

But it was something she didn't feel inclined to doing. She wouldn't be comfortable with performing fellatio on him unless she knew for certain he would be willing to reciprocate and return the favor.

"No," she said, "Not unless you return the favor. I want to get something out of it, too."

"But you will," he sneered crudely, "A taste of my valiant royal cock. You should be grateful that I'm allowing you to indulge in such a privilege."

She genuinely didn't want to do it unless he was willing to return the gesture, but she was also playing hard to get, enjoying that he was now actively pursuing her. She resisted and stood firm. "Are you willing to eat me out in return if I do it?" she said, before reconsidering, "No, actually, I've got a better idea. _You_ follow through with your part first, then afterwards I _might_ blow you." She knew he wouldn't agree to those terms. It was an easy way out for her.

A few tense seconds of silence passed between them, all the while a scowl settled on Vegeta's face. He was certain there was no way in hell he would ever put his mouth anywhere near that horrible monstrous thing between her legs. She was outright refusing him. He had a newfound respect for her at this stubborn refusal of hers, but now he both hated her tremendously and he wanted her more than ever. He was left struggling to restrain himself from lunging on her.

Bulma could see his struggle to hold out from doing anything. She knew she had an upper hand over him. She tossed the pain relieving ointment to the other side of the bed, where it bounced once and toppled over to the floor. "There's something else I wouldn't mind doing that I think we'll both like," she said to him. "After all, I'm your 'comrade' now; your girlfriend."

He didn't say anything, but he watched her reproachfully, wondering what she was conspiring.

She maneuvered herself over him. He had his legs apart and she settled herself between them, sitting between his thighs and in front of his pelvis, resting her legs around either side of his waist. He gave her a wide-eyed accusatory scowl, but he didn't attempt to fend her off.

She hesitated, bashful and a little embarrassed. She certainly wanted to go through with it. But this was Vegeta she was contending with. He was just as stubborn as she was, as well as hard to read. Would he push her away if she made a move on him?

She decided to start out slow at first, experiment, to see if he would be comfortable with it and if he would want more, and she would give him a sample of what was to come, just a preview of the great sex she could offer him. She was proud of her sexual prowess, and she liked him; she wanted him to enjoy it and partake in something that would satisfy him. And, of course, it would satisfy her own libido.

Slowly she edged her hand closer to his shorts, pulling at the waistband. He didn't protest, though his mouth went taut in a frown. Not getting any hints that he disapproved of it, she slid her hand inside and down the front. He said nothing, but he flinched. With her free hand she brushed her fingers over his bruised torso. "I promise this'll make the pain go away, at least for a while."

_It better_, Vegeta thought spitefully, hoping she was about to give him what he wanted, and that was oral sex, nothing more, nothing less.

Her fingers fumbled around until she gripped him, and the small frown on his mouth widened across his face, although it was accompanied by a hidden surge of pleasure throughout his entire body. He unconsciously leaned back a little, lifting his shoulders closer to his neck, all the while knowing that she was not wearing panties under that flimsy skirt she wore, and there was little separating them. Knowing this was enough to make him stiffen quickly.

With one hand she pulled at his waistband, and with the other she drew his engorged flesh free from his shorts, and she raised an eyebrow at seeing his well-endowed equipment. He couldn't help but crack a tiny conceited smirk at how impressed she seemed. She moved her hips closer to him until they were only inches apart, and in response to her sudden proximity he clenched his jaw tight.

His unease faded slowly and he anticipated her next more, while Bulma flushed with heat and she felt suddenly wary, afraid she wouldn't meet his standards. She forced her worries to subside, assuring herself that she knew what she was doing, and she would leave him impressed and amazed.

She drew one slow breath in, bringing her confidence up by reminding herself that she had a great flawless body. With that boost to her ego she hitched her skirt up. Vegeta frowned quickly, while Bulma vainly said to boost her self-esteem, "I know you like what you see."

"Spare me from your useless commentary and get on with it," he said impatiently.

Bulma frowned, and Vegeta had to sneer in return, glad that he'd made her mad at him. He willed himself to take a look at her exposed flesh. Well, it wasn't too hideous, he convinced himself. He'd just need to get used to it a little at a time.

He didn't have the luxury of time, however, because Bulma swiftly closed her fingers around his shaft and brought it to her center, guiding the tip of his glans along her inner folds, teasing herself. His sneer disappeared and he gave a little jolting shudder, his hips jerking. He was horrified and violated by what she was doing. While it felt good to him, it was mostly a gradual process of her arousing herself without his assistance and of her own accord.

He hadn't been anticipating this. He'd thought she was about to suck him off, and he wasn't prepared for this level of intimacy. He spasmed at how it felt and he hissed a quick sigh between his teeth, not exactly liking that she was using him to please herself. Though he had to admit such a level of selfishness she had was invigorating and captivating. If it weren't for his leniency and his respect and admiration for her, and if it didn't feel so good, he would have felt she was desecrating him.

Watching her own handiwork, a wicked smile set on Bulma's lips, a portion of which she held between her teeth, biting on her bottom lip to stop herself from making a loud vocal exclamation at how much she enjoyed it. She knew that would make him uncomfortable.

He heard her breathing pick up and she shivered against him, while his tension was only mounting. He grew sick with the wait, and he damned her for slowly drawing it out, all to build up her own satisfaction. He began sweating, it was too much for him, too much too soon. No amount of training could have prepared him for this, and she was killing him with anticipation.

She stopped. With dazed eyes she looked down, and she remembered she needed to be precautionary. She squirmed around, not really wanting to lose contact with him.

She panted out, "Sit tight and let me see if I can find a condom." He flinched and scowled, drawing a quick breath through his nose when she added teasingly, "Even though we're together now, I don't want to catch any weird alien diseases from you."

As she tried to lift herself away from him, to her surprise he pulled her by her hips and brought her back down, locking her there. He would not let her leave now, not when she had so cruelly enticed him. That and he was gravely insulted by her words. He was _not_ carrying any diseases, and he would prove it to her.

The entirety of his member was pressed against her fragile skin. It was an unbearable feeling to him, the incredible tension and wait. He could stand it no longer. Carnal instinct took over and clouded his judgment, and in a desperate and hasty frenzy he pulled her onto the bed and pushed her into the mattress, eliciting a surprised and angered squawk from her. She was laid out on her stomach, her chest and the front of her shoulders pushed into the bed sheets, supported only by her elbows and on her knees with her back arched. He positioned himself behind her, sitting on his knees and looming over her, crouched along her back. With one leg he parted her thighs, leaving her open and vulnerable to him.

She didn't know what he was doing, and she was a little afraid, but mostly excited. She liked that her lewd ways had influenced him and caused him to snap and take the lead. It seemed that a switch had been flipped, once teased and angered enough he took control and became assertive, and she liked that.

He wasn't actually fully conscious to what he was doing. He was so furious and humiliated that he couldn't think straight, relying only on gut instinct. With one hand gripping her hip, he reached with his free hand between her legs, feeling around and receiving a quick yelp from her, but she shook and held her breath in as he slid two fingers inside her, testing her with shallow penetration before going deeper until he was buried up to his knuckles. He was feeling and gauging the depth of her core, to see and estimate how deep he could go without puncturing an internal organ. He was only half aware at his assessments; it was an unconscious act.

He hadn't realized or considered that by doing this she found delight. She responded to his probing fingers with a loud whimper of pleasure. Frowning, he pulled his fingers out, glancing at them briefly, disgusted to see how goddamn wet this lecherous woman was.

Bulma turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, frustrated that he had stopped even for a second. "Is that it?" she said, disappointment ringing clear in her voice.

That was all it took to completely enrage him.

He roughly pushed his hips against her rear end, and with one quick motion he buried himself inside her. She could only voice a strained gasp in her amazement at how he filled her completely. Gripping the bed sheets at either side of her waist for leverage, he didn't spare a moment to slam against her with unimaginable speed and with an inhuman pace he set.

She hadn't expected it to hurt as much as it did. He collided with her much too quickly and furiously, and without the gradual build up of foreplay she was not completely lubricated. She couldn't help but focus on the way his training shorts felt, clashing against the back of her thighs and causing friction, and her sweat was causing her shirt to cling to her skin. She would have preferred for him to have peeled their clothes off before doing this.

It was incredibly uncomfortable at first, but his girth more than made up for it. She arched her back more to accompany him, until he was hitting her in just the right spot, and with his speed she was met with an extraordinary feeling, and the pain she felt dissolved. She pressed her forehead into the mattress, drawing sharp breaths in through her mouth, the sound conflicting with his erratic breathing. She squeezed her inner muscles around him, pushing her hips against him until she received an astonishing degree of gratification.

Just as she was really beginning to enjoy it, she released an unsteady and shaky moan, and the sound broke him out of his trance. Realizing what an atrocious act he was engaging in he stopped moving and he shut his eyes, willing himself not to finish. He gave a sharp choked gasp, though it came out sounding much more like a pained cough. He remained where he was, panting as he recovered, then slowly he slid out of her and pulled away, wincing as he did so, while she had to hold her breath.

It had lasted little more than a minute, and neither had met their release, though Vegeta had been close to succeeding at that, to his disgust. He stood and moved away from the bed, shoving his slickened appendage back into his training shorts. Panting and sweating profusely, Bulma sat up on her knees and looked back at him, her mouth hanging ajar, still breathing heavily between her flushed lips. Vegeta was readjusting his shorts, scowling horribly, his teeth clenched in a wordless snarl.

He was pissed. Now her scent was all over him, all over his, as she put it, 'Little Vegeta'. A year's worth of beating-off might be necessary to lift the lingering sexual frustration he would undoubtedly have. But most of all he was angry at himself, hating that he had lost control. And, strangely, he was angry that he'd taken his frustrations out on her. Though she had been the initiator by taunting him, he felt awful for imposing his lechery on her.

His shame went unspoken. He couldn't even look at her. He turned and left the room, troublesome thoughts pervading his mind, concerned that he might have impregnated her. But that accounted for the least of his worries. What if he'd soiled his reputation, and now what if she would see him as a libidinous and vulgar being? What if her pathetic Earthling friends found out?

He decided all he could do to take his mind off his anxieties would be to push himself to his limits with his training again for the remainder of the day, while tactfully avoiding Bulma.

She remained in the infirmary, needing to remain in her place to compose herself, all the while wondering what the hell had just happened. It was clear he'd lost it – she'd succeeded in enticing him. She must have been way too irresistible, she concluded, and she felt pretty good about that.

She wasn't unhappy about what he'd done. She was content that things seemed to be moving forward. But to her it hadn't really counted as sex. It was more like he had taken her for a test ride. She didn't know if he'd ever had sex before; she doubted it. But it was clear that he'd never been in a relationship, and it was obvious he didn't know how to engage in foreplay, or how to please a woman. A typical barbaric caveman, inconsiderate and quick, not to mention anticlimactic; a total two-pump chump. But Vegeta had been better than Yamcha had been his first time. And the last time.

She knew Vegeta was worried about knocking her up, but she was not worried about that at all. He must not have known of the existence of birth control, nor that she was on it. She might have to explain that to him, as well as a multitude of other issues pertaining to sex, and it was a discussion she didn't look forward to. Though she had a way with words, she never really liked talking about sex. She was better at doing it. Talking about it and explaining it to someone else, _that_ was embarrassing.

Aside from her worries of that, she feared that if Vegeta had really gotten plenty of tail before, she might have caught an STD, or at the very least perhaps he could have transferred a bacterial infection to her, as she thought he was dirty and filthy. She was more concerned about that than winding up pregnant.

Once she was composed and calm, she stood, adjusting her loosened clothes and patting her skirt down. She was just a little frustrated. She would have to teach the stubborn grumpy fool on the art of pleasing the great Bulma Briefs. He'd helped himself to her, and he'd been too quick about it, and that was not acceptable to her. It had been painful at first, but for the last twenty or so seconds it had been quite pleasant and pain-free, and from those twenty seconds she knew she wanted to try it again and go through with it until they both finished. Next time she wanted to be the one calling the shots, and she intended to take her time with him.


	25. Chapter 25

It felt like days were slowly passing by, but it had only been several hours since Bulma's unceremonious get-together with Vegeta in the infirmary. Having relocated to her lab, Bulma was working on the daunting task of trying to replicate Vegeta's armor, but she lost her focus on her work. She was reconsidering her actions, thinking that perhaps she shouldn't have enticed him, maybe she should have been just a little more patient. She was hard to contend with, stubborn and pushy, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. She understood and acknowledged that she was like this - she wasn't easy to deal with. And Vegeta knew he was contending with a spitfire woman, she was a little out of his league, and Bulma knew she could intimidate him. Especially with her sexuality.

But after today's earlier occurrence she wished she had not been so mean to him. She had made him so angry that he had snapped and had his way with her – she didn't mind the physical aspect of that, it hadn't been awful and she even thought it felt pretty good, and she was curious to go at it again. But it was his feelings and his pride that she was afraid she'd wounded. She felt bad for him, but most of all she felt sorry for herself. What if her lewdness scared him off, what if he would disappear again, or even worse, leave the planet and never come back, not even for the challenge of fighting the androids? The thought of something like that happening made her uneasy. She didn't want to lose him.

Bulma had since changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top, a more appropriate dress attire for working in her lab, rather than the short skirt she had worn when flirting with her grumpy house guest. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her limbs out and deciding to call it a day. She couldn't concentrate on her work, glancing every once in a while at a screen monitoring the activity of the Gravity Capsule. Seemingly Vegeta had resumed his training right after he'd stormed out on her, and he locked himself up in the GR for hours, training under a constant 1,000 Gs. Bulma worried that he was pushing himself too hard, but with the safety features she had installed in the Gravitron as well as a monitoring system she could see that his vital signs were reading normal. He was alive, at least.

She would have liked to contact him over the intercom to apologize, but she realized he was used to a solitary lifestyle; he needed his space, and she decided to allow him that. Eventually, she hoped, he would recover from his shock and anger and continue his pursuit of her.

* * *

By 6pm Vegeta shut the gravity simulator off, collapsing into the pilot seat of the GR, his body practically screaming for rest. It had been such a long time since he'd last pushed himself so hard, and he couldn't help but feel dissatisfied, feeling that he was falling behind. His mind swam with thoughts of the legendary strength he longed for, his desire clawing at him to surpass his rival. And his thoughts were very often interrupted by those annoying wonderings of that viper woman.

He respected her, that was unquestionable. Somehow she had managed to get close to him, which was a feat nobody had succeeded in before, and for that she gained his begrudging admiration for her. Even more bizarre was how he had allowed her to get close to him. While he did acknowledge that he was using her in the hopes of learning compassion and in effect to learn how to become a Super Saiyan, it wasn't entirely for his own strength that he needed her. She helped to fill that emptiness in him. He didn't fully understand why he relied on her for something trivial like that, to fill the void of loneliness that he'd long ignored, but it was convenient. He accepted that she was also useful in this way. And she proved to be useful at a lot of things. While she was loud and infuriating she was so damn skilled and intelligent, and she was interesting. And, of course, she was great at physically enticing him.

He had to wonder, if he did follow through with his carnal needs, would it be so awful if this woman would carry his heir? It was something he felt uncomfortable even considering. Bulma however did not seem to be worried about that happening. Maybe she was barren as he had guessed, or maybe she wouldn't mind. And why should she be bothered by something like that happening? She would have to feel privileged to carry and birth his spawn. Though he would see the act as an abomination and a disgrace to his race, Vegeta believed that his own primitive actions had been the most disgraceful of all. He'd lost control and he had forced himself on her, although he was most certain that his advancement had not been unwanted nor unprovoked and she hadn't disliked it. Still he felt shame for his own lecherousness, and even more ashamed that now, after having sampled her, he wanted to fully copulate with the woman more than ever.

She was definitely worthy of him, and perhaps she would also be worthy of rearing his offspring. While she was an Earthling, and while it would soil his Saiyan bloodlines, she was more than deserving to carry on his name. She was vigilant and so passionate and driven about everything she did, and he considered that she might be worth the risk. Nobody else deserved to be coupled with him, nobody but her, and he was more than confident that any child of his would be exceedingly gifted, potentially even stronger than the third-class dog's brat.

But Vegeta could not picture himself being involved in his offspring's life, if he would end up impregnating the woman. Until now he'd never dreamed he could become a father, he'd never considered it, though that was mainly because such a possibility had been unfathomable, given his unwillingness to open up to anyone and the lifestyle he had lived, enslaved and employed as a mass-murderer. He was free now, and free to do what he wished of with his life. And there was still the chance that he might not be able to alter his predestined future. He was fated to die at the hands of the androids, and then the Saiyan race would finally be extinct and forgotten.

A cold shudder of fear ran through him as he was filled with sudden dread at this thought. To think that if Goku ended up succumbing to that heart virus, the proud prince would be the only one left, the last of his valiant warrior race, and he was destined to die and to be forgotten. The thought actually hurt him deeply. His terror had once been legendary throughout the universe, the Saiyans had been notoriously bloodthirsty conquerors, and all had feared them. But they were all gone, everyone who had once feared the Saiyans had died out or been wiped from existence by Frieza or by Vegeta himself; he had obliterated the remnants of the Planet Trade and Frieza's army when he'd gone in space in his search of Goku. There was not one soul left who could even comprehend the feats and conquests of the Saiyans, centuries' worth of history and heritage would forever be lost.

But not by Bulma. She was open to learning more about the Saiyans, and more predominantly she wanted to learn about their last surviving prince. She was willing to remember the importance of his fallen race, and perhaps she would also be willing to help preserve his race and to keep it from dying out by offering her fertile Earthling body to him.

He sat there at the pilot seat in the Gravity Room, thinking about it for a very long time. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful if he ended up procreating with her. The thought of having a family was utterly foreign to him, strange and even disturbing for him to think about, something he couldn't picture himself partaking in, and he couldn't see himself becoming a parent and participating in the life of his offspring. It was an impossibility to him, raising a child and passing on his knowledge to it. Such a thought was almost laughable to him. He could never do this.

But he wanted what Bulma could give him, he wanted her to remember the importance of who he was, and he wanted to fornicate with her. If she ended up pregnant, he could condone it, but he would not personally contend with the result, he would leave her solely responsible for dealing with the burden. He would not involve himself with the resulting spawn, which would perhaps be better off for it. Any child of his he would undoubtedly neglect or mold into a monstrous being. But its existence would at least give his bloodline a chance from dying out. That meant everything to him. He didn't want his race to fall to extinction and to be forgotten.

He wasn't entirely sure on what he'd decided on, but there was one thing he was certain of – he wanted Bulma, but more importantly he wanted everything she could offer him; by that he particularly idealized what she could do to satisfy him physically. He could not avoid her any longer, and the risk of conception was no longer threatening enough to keep him from wanting to consummate what he had with her.

* * *

He wasn't at the dinner table as the Briefs family ate their meal together. He hadn't even made an appearance in the kitchen at all that day, which was odd, as he was always hungry and prowling about for food. Bulma's mood was on a steady decline. She was worried, and it pained her to think of the shame Vegeta must have felt.

A frown sat on Bunny's mouth. She was very sad at not having her favorite freeloader in the room with them. She loved feeding him her cooking, and this evening she had baked some pastries that she had wanted him to try. "I wonder where that pointy-haired hard worker has run off to?" she observed aloud in a sad tone.

Bulma cringed at her mother's words. Hearing 'pointy' and 'hard' in the same sentence to describe Vegeta immediately brought her back to the memory of what they had partaken in.

"Perhaps he's watching the baseball game that's on," Dr. Briefs suggested. "The Taitans are playing tonight, didn't you know, Bulma?"

She wasn't listening, not that she would care to know that her ex-boyfriend's baseball team was playing live on national television. She was thinking about how she would need to explain to Vegeta the Earthling practice of contraceptives that he was not familiar with. She didn't look forward to explaining birth control and sex to a temperamental grown man. While his aloofness was humorous to her, she worried about how he would respond when she would have to confront him. She knew she would probably need to resort to running her mouth and making a few snide remarks to get her point across, while he would likely backlash with comments about how lewd the human race was. And the subject of birth control was especially lewd and graphic. She was aware that he would likely respond by being horrified, disgusted, and offended.

She'd already had to explain the topic to Yamcha years ago, because the poor fool had never taken a sex ed class – and it had been an awful occurrence for her. He'd been immature about the whole thing and he became queasy at Bulma's thorough detailed explanation. He'd fared no better with his performance in the sack, it had been uncomfortable for the both of them. She didn't want a repeat of that with Vegeta.

After finishing dinner she went back into her lab to check Vegeta's vital signs, and she was surprised to see that the Gravitron wasn't in use. Once again she thought about contacting him over the intercom, but she decided against the notion, leaving her lab with another purpose in mind.

* * *

Vegeta knew that facing her was unavoidable, especially now after he had confessed that he was interested in her. But he didn't expect the confrontation to happen so soon.

It had been a physically and emotionally exhausting day, and his weariness took its toll on him. All he wanted was rest, and he was not as alert as he normally would have been. He didn't sense her energy signal approaching until it was too late as he was crossing the threshold of his bedroom. Realizing the confrontation was inescapable, he could do nothing but quickly curse his lapsed awareness and his poor judgment. He should have stayed in the Gravity Capsule overnight.

She had treaded through the hall and now she leaned in the doorway of his room while he kicked his shoes off. He would have preferred to give her the cold shoulder, but he forced himself to glare at her. Another poor decision, as he was almost bowled over. Did this damn woman always have to go out of her way to look as appealing as possible? He appreciatively saw that her body was more covered up, though her hair was gently tousled and slicked back out of her face to reveal her stunning features, and that discomforted him; she was far too beautiful and he was quickly intimidated by that enchanting face. He took his eyes away from hers to look at the jeans she wore, and he immediately wondered if she was or was not wearing any underwear underneath them.

She surveyed him with equal scrutiny. He was haggard and worn, it was apparent that he needed rest. She reevaluated her decision, wondering if maybe she should have waited a while before talking to him, but it was too late to turn back now.

In this weakened state it was instinctive for him to be defensively aggressive, he would normally have insisted she get lost and leave his room. But he fought against the urge to retaliate against her, instead asking in a quick and hostile low growl, "What do you want now?" He couldn't tell if she'd come here just to talk, or if she wanted sex; he couldn't smell that pervasive odor of an Earthling woman in heat on her, though he accredited his dulled senses for his inability to catch that scent. Not that it would make a difference. He knew this woman was always fertile and she could be roused into heat at the drop of a hat.

But he could not sense any distress from her, and he didn't doubt that at this moment she was fearless of him. He was astounded that she had the guts to seek him out and approach him after what he had done. What an impressive level of fearlessness and bravery she had. His anger melted away and an odd lukewarm feeling of pride swelled up in him, but for the first time in his life it was pride not entirely for himself. It was for her. He was surprised by his own feelings, but he did not contest them.

Bulma stepped away from the doorway and she moved further into the room. Vegeta didn't fail to notice that she closed the door behind her, and he grimaced, thinking, _I knew it! She came here to pester me for another pounding! What a vulgar being she is! _But he offered no complaints, and he allowed her to remain in his territory. She was not out of place, it wasn't as if she didn't belong here, because, after all, he felt she was rightfully his now.

He kept his body turned away from her, and she freely looked him over. She chose against hassling him about his injuries, she didn't want to unsettle him or drive him away, so she opted to open the conversation on a lighter subject, hoping to put him at ease and to get him to be comfortable. "I'm guessing you haven't eaten since breakfast. I saved some dinner for you, it's in the fridge. Are you hungry?"

He stalked into his bathroom, grinding out a hasty "No." Bulma followed him, though allowing him his distance, staying in his room while he cleaned himself off with a towel, wiping away the sweat and the bloodstains caked into his skin. Bulma felt bad for him. She would have liked to attend to his injuries herself. She couldn't help but voice her concern, "Do you need a hand?"

He instantly envisioned her doing something else with one of her hands, and he cringed. Did this woman always spew innuendos so carelessly? He glowered at her. "You haven't answered my inquiry, woman. What have you come to harass me for?"

She wanted to apologize for her earlier lewdness, but there was no way her dignity would allow her to take the fall entirely. Vegeta had done something just as lewd, and Bulma saw that they were both equally to blame. She chose to forget about what had happened and to move forward. She sat down on the edge of his bed, and he frowned at this. After sighing she said calmly, "Look, I feel like I owe you an explanation. But first I want you to know that I'm not mad about what happened."

He finished clearing the blood away from his body, and he tossed the towel to the floor. He left the bathroom to approach her and he stood above her, arms crossed, glaring down at her. "Is that all?"

"No," she admitted, "I wanted to talk to you about, well, you know."

The expression on his face was a cross between a scowl and an uncomfortable wince. What a horrid thing to discuss! But he allowed her to speak her mind, as he wanted to know these things. He was glad that he didn't have to ask, she had come here to explain it to him. It was uncomfortable, but he was relieved.

"You're afraid I'll get pregnant if we go through with it," she said bluntly.

He snarled before snapping back, "I am not _afraid_, nor do I care if it happens. If it does, _you_ will be the sole bearer of the resulting burden. I will take no part in it."

"Well it's _not_ going to happen! I probably should've told you this earlier. I don't know about you aliens, but here on planet Earth we have ways to prevent pregnancy."

"As I should have suspected," he said, giving a silent sigh of relief that went unnoticed by her, but of course he had to make a snide remark, "It's no small wonder then that someone as lewd as you doesn't have a dozen offspring running around at your feet."

"Do you have to be so crude?" Bulma said. "Listen. I've been on the Pill for years, it's a very effective form of birth control and it has never failed me. So you don't need to worry about knocking me up." More so to convince herself she added with a smile, "I know you're concerned about me, but just relax. Do you want to know how birth control works, if you're still not convinced or hesitant to take our relationship further?"

"I don't care to hear the details," Vegeta replied, cutting to the chase, "Clearly there's something else you want from me. You weren't satisfied with the earlier pounding I had given you, and you've come back for more. You certainly are a glutton for punishment." He couldn't admit that now he was the one who looked forward to it. After Bulma had confirmed that there would be no risk of pregnancy involved he wanted to copulate with her immediately. If he'd known that she couldn't get pregnant, he would have slept with her sooner. While that desire to preserve his race was still in his thoughts, what he wanted the most was what he could get out of this Earth woman, anything else was pushed into the far reserves of his mind. He was not at all opposed to fornicating with her now, and he decided he may as well make up for lost time.

Bulma hesitantly said, "I'd be okay with it, just as long as you want it too. What do you think?"

"I view the act as a waste of my time," he said, stubbornly refusing to admit that he wanted it so badly now, and by evading her he was hoping to provoke her into initiating it.

"Well, _I_ want it," Bulma said, trying to mask the blush on her face at this confession. With confidence she added, "And I know you want me, so I guess I'm just going to have to make you admit you want it too!"

He felt his blood coursing through him, but he willed himself to not let it show. Her determination impressed him, and it was also an immediate turn-on. He couldn't resist any longer. "And how will you manage that?" Vegeta asked cruelly, struggling to keep his desire from being noticed.

Bulma shifted a little closer to the edge of the bed, reaching one hand out to graze her fingers along his abdomen, earning a shiver from him. "I'll do it if it'll help you grow more comfortable to the idea of sex."

He frowned as her fingers caressed his skin just above the waistband of his training shorts, and he could feel his scalp tingling. "Do what? Are you saying you'll blow me now?"

She pursed her lip. She would rather know that he would return the favor before doing this, but she wanted to get him to become comfortable with her. And she would not mind doing something that she knew he would enjoy. "You owe me for this. Like I said, I want you to warm up to the idea of having sex, even if it has to be a little at a time."

He was insulted. "I don't need to warm up to it! Were you not listening when I told you I'm prepared for anything?"

"I thought you said that only because you were trying to make yourself look like a tough guy, you know, so you could show off to me," she teased while with her free hand she reached into one of the back pockets of her jeans, and she pulled something out.

Vegeta watched her critically. "Just what the hell is that?" he demanded.

With both hands Bulma ripped open a small wrapper, pulling out a flimsy little pink object. She stretched it out, explaining, "Jeez, you really don't know? It's a condom. This also helps to prevent pregnancy, but I'm using it so I won't catch anything nasty from you. Here, let me help put it on."

"You are not putting anything pink on me!" Vegeta retorted, pulling away from her so he was just out of her reach.

"Oh come on! Don't be such a big baby!" She looked down at the vibrant piece of latex in her palm, wondering if it had been worth teasing him a little with her choice of color. "If you really don't want to wear a pink one I can go get a different color. I have some blue ones, and I think I have a few tie-dye and glow in the dark ones as well."

He didn't care how many colors she had, there was no way in hell he was ever going to wear one. "I am_ not_ disease ridden," he insisted, "You ought to apply your scrutiny to yourself. Have you caught any disgusting ailments from your weakling?"

She frowned. "No, I haven't. Maybe because you're a total prude you might not have any STDs, but you could give me a bacterial infection or something gross. I don't know how often you bathe down there."

"You dense woman! If anyone in this room is carrying any foul afflictions, it would be _you_. I guarantee you I am untainted, and I can also guarantee I will not wear one of those contraptions."

She paused for a moment, considering his words. She didn't think he would lie to her face about something like that. Besides, while she often teased him about how filthy she thought he was, she knew he had been keeping up his bathing routine lately. And she felt it would be beneficial to the both of them if she opened up her trust to him, and she wanted him to know that she trusted him. "Alright, I believe you," she said. "You don't have to wear one if you don't want to. Okay then, do you want to lie down while I do this?"

"You're not going to blow me," he said with finality.

"I said I will. You wanted this, and I want to do this for you."

"You misunderstand me. I _don't_ want you to do it." He didn't want it not out of disinterest, he had been curious to try it. But not anymore. Though it had angered him, he respected Bulma's earlier decision to refuse to give him oral sex. And he wasn't about to have her give in after she had displayed such a strong will and resistance. He didn't want to ruin that image of her, and he didn't want to degrade her by having her perform fellatio on him. If they were going to do anything, he decided, it would have to be intercourse and nothing less. She deserved to get just as much enjoyment out of it as he would, though he could never tell her that he felt this way.

Bulma was confused. She couldn't understand why he wouldn't want it now, as he had asked for it earlier. "Why not?" was all she could manage to say.

Vegeta's mouth turned up into a mean sneer. "I don't trust you not to sink your teeth into me," he lied. "I distinctly recall you'd bitten me before, and I don't look forward to that happening again."

Bulma pouted, very offended by his apparent lack of trust in her, while she had openly given him her trust in him. "Oh, well in that case I guess I'll just leave you to yourself, then!" she said crossly, making a move to get up, but Vegeta kept her seated by pushing down on her shoulders with both hands. Bulma protested with a squawking sound, and he briefly frowned at hearing such a horrendous noise coming from her mouth. He crouched closer to her until he was almost kneeling, and he was at eye level with her, looming close and intimidating the heiress with his proximity. He placed his hands on the bed at either side of her legs.

"While I no longer care to gag you, there's something else I might find your body useful for," he said.

"Oh? For what?" she teased, directly evading him, "Live target practice during your training?"

"Don't play naïve. You know what I want."

She swallowed, her anticipation building. "You have to ask nicely first."

He wasn't in the mood to play along with her games, as he was instead in the mood for something else, and he was growing impatient. All he wanted was to lay his claim to her - and to get laid. He so looked forward to feeling her lithe and fragile body underneath his own rugged and worn form, and he did not care to engage in idle precoital chit-chat. Hoping to stop her taunts, and blinded by his own desire, he pushed her down into the mattress with the weight of his body against her, silencing any outbursts with a heavy kiss. Bulma was both surprised and delighted, and she didn't hesitate to reciprocate, the movements of her mouth quick and desperate, though she was quickly outmatched by the pressure of his forceful lips tasting her, greedy for more. He pulled away, neglecting her mouth to clip at the soft skin of her neck with his teeth, sucking tiny portions of her fragile skin into his mouth and biting hard, then running his tongue over where he had wounded her. He repeated the process several times on her neck before he moved on to her shoulders and her collarbone, before working his way down her chest, not caring that he was leaving visual evidence of his passion through the bruises he left on her skin.

Bulma assisted him in his conquest of her body by stripping her shirt off, and while she flung the article of clothing across the room Vegeta's teeth tore across her abdomen, and at the end of his route he bit into her hip. She jolted and belted out, "Ow! That hurt!"

He drew back, looking over his work, and at the same time freely looking her body over. He had left close to half a dozen marks on her, which he knew would bruise nicely. He decided he would need to add more. His eyes wandered up to her cleavage, which he had not yet charted. That soft round white skin looked very appealing, and he felt it would look much more flattering with his bite marks all over her flesh. He grabbed for her bra, and Bulma gave him a pleading expression, warning him to be gentle. He fumbled around with the material, confused by the tight straps trapping her bosom. He didn't care to know the proper procedure of removing a bra, and he was impatient. He ripped it open from the front, tearing the entire undergarment off of her in shredded pieces, while she writhed. Vegeta stopped for a moment to stare in awe at the sight of her bare chest, while Bulma groaned. How many of her clothes did he have to ruin?

"I said you needed to ask nicely, but you just helped yourself," she scolded, but she meant it half-heartedly. She liked his vicious spontaneity.

He took his eyes up to hers, scowling. "I don't ask for what naturally belongs to me." With that, he savagely resumed his work, biting into the side of one of her breasts.

Bulma shrieked and recoiled from the attack, yelling, "You rough bastard! Don't do that!" He paid her no mind, biting into her once more, though not as hard. She continued to complain, "Can't you be a little gentle? I'm delicate and fragile, I'm not tough like you barbaric guys."

Through a mouthful of her flesh he muttered, "Don't coach me. Do I look like I'm capable of being gentle?"

"No," Bulma answered, giving way to a laugh. Her amusement was cut short by Vegeta as he swiped his tongue across one areola before taking the nipple into his mouth, discreetly he did it as softly as he could manage, though he did involve his teeth, just a little bit. He kept his eyes on her face as he attended to the sensitive area, noticing how her breathing hitched into a tiny gasp and she winced painlessly. With one free hand he gripped her other breast while intuitively running his tongue over her teat, applying just enough suction and only light scrapes of his teeth along her skin to not hurt her. He watched her the entire time, learning what she liked through the subtle muscle spasms he could see in her face. He was very attentive, he knew how to read the signals given by one's muscle movements and what they indicated, subtle hints registering what was liked, and he applied what he learned from her reactions to please her.

Just as her voice broke out into a soft moan, he pulled himself away from her breast and moved up to stifle the sound she made with his mouth covering hers, kissing her with fervor while methodically reaching his hands to below her waist, undoing the button of her jeans. She assisted him in peeling them off, and Vegeta was mildly surprised to see that she was wearing panties this time, a nice black piece with lace, and seeing such a frilly little undergarment paired with her soft milky white skin built his anticipation up and made him tremble desirously. As soon as her legs were freed he kissed her again, at the same time he pushed his hand into her underwear, registering a light approving purr from her. Bulma reached for his training shorts, tugging on them and then sliding them down his thighs. She could feel the frown in his kiss, and when he pulled away she glanced down, smiling wickedly to see how much she had aroused him.

As Vegeta tried to peel her underwear off with impatient hands, he was astounded when the heiress hooked one leg around his waist, pulling him against her as she rolled him over so she was on top. He groaned at being treated this way, and also at the slight pain surging through his tired muscles. His pain was quickly ignored as he watched her arch her back, whipping her hair and running her fingers through it. She stared down at him with a commanding glare, letting him know she wanted to take the lead, and he visibly swallowed. Without his help she pulled her panties down by herself with one hand, the other on his chest, until the undergarment was free from her ankles and tossed across the room, forgotten.

She kept her eyes on him, and that was when she noticed how exhausted he was. He was breathing heavily, she could see the bruises and cuts marked all along his rising and collapsing torso, and his eyes, while piercing and filled with desire, were outlined with dark rings. She was concerned, and though she wanted to keep going, she asked, "You're tired. Should we do this some other time?"

While her genuine concern was heartfelt, he did not care that she was worried for him. Rather he was hating that she had noticed his fatigue – to him a weakness. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down so that his member was protruding along her folds, and he hissed in a raspy low voice, "Don't patronize me!" He was sitting upright now, his back rigid and his face pressing against her neck. He ran his hands around her to grip her buttocks, and she lifted her hips up and eased herself onto him, with one hand slowly guiding him inside her, sighing into her action, while she touched his chest with her fingertips with her free hand as she mounted him. She released a satisfied sigh once he filled her, and she smiled down at him. He had his eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling, though he had not seen it he could hear her smile radiating through the pleased sigh she had given.

He allowed her to be the initiator. She settled her legs around him, positioning herself, while he pulled her against him until he filled her completely, and she began a subtle rocking motion. Waves of pleasure were sent along his shaft when she bucked her hips against him, and she heard his approval in a quietly hissed sigh. She was encouraged to continue moving in a slow rhythm, adjusting her pace and transitioning into different movements. Vegeta kept up his scowling expression, but he was impressed. Sweat built up on his forehead, and every once in a while the corner of his mouth would twitch. He found it was very difficult to hold off his release with the way she expertly handled him and with her inner muscles crushing every inch of him. He didn't know this woman could generate such powerful sensations in him, and he was left wondering why he hadn't allowed her to do this sooner.

Bulma brought her torso closer to him and pressed her chest into his pecs as she increased her speed, her hands finding themselves wrapped around him while she clawed at the hair on the nape of his neck. He was close to his peak, his quick muscle spasms in his thighs and the slight convulsions in his torso were felt by her. She stopped grinding her hips against him, and he snapped his eyes open, glaring at her. Knowing she would anger him, she gave him a mischievous smile, critiquing through her heavy pants, "Can't you last longer than that? I'm obviously not done here."

To her delight he took the bait. He snarled and ground out tersely, "You're not even close to satiating me!" His words were accompanied by him roughly jerking his hips against her to get her to continue, and she nearly fell off him. He chuckled cruelly. Her clumsiness was hilarious to him.

She shot him a dirty look, but she regained her position and she kept going, and this time he moved with her so they were both actively participating in a combined effort, his quick thrusts colliding against her hips gyrating against him, though she was putting out more effort than he was. Vegeta was surprised at how long she could last while he was so worn and exhausted, and every once in a while pain spiked through his chest. And he was so close to reaching his pinnacle, but pride would not allow him to give in and lose face, he had to hold out and prove himself to her. It was no small feat for him, but he willed himself through it, staving off the release he so desperately wanted.

As he was managing to hold out, she was slowly falling to her own escalating tension, nibbling on her bottom lip and throwing her head back. Gradually he felt the tremors in her body and her breathing stop. Just as she was about to climax, she was interrupted by him. He purposely stopped and flipped her over, his shaft sliding out of her.

Angry that he had stopped her, Bulma managed to gasp out, "What was that for_?_!" She had been close to having her first orgasm in over a year, and she was very displeased at having it taken away.

To Vegeta it was payback, as she had stopped his own gratification with a condescending remark. Somehow it had turned into a sinister game of prolonging the experience and seeing who would give in, and now he intended to win. He parted her legs with his knee and repositioned himself over her, shifting his hips and settling himself between her legs, pulling himself along her until they were face to face, his chest a foot above hers and his hands fisting the bed sheets at her sides. The feeling of his breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine, as well as the eye contact he maintained while he slowly and calculatingly reached one hand between her legs and he ran his fingers along her inner thigh, waiting for her to give in to the unbearable torturous temptation he was issuing on her. He muttered as heinously as he could, "I promised I would show you a terror worse than hell, and I'm about to pound it into you. I'll be merciful and I will make this quick."

He had intended to be as cruel as he could be, pounding her so roughly and so fast that it would be unlikely that she would get much enjoyment out of it, and he intended to do it all for his own pleasure. He had these intentions until she looked him in the eye fearlessly, and she quietly said with a smile, "Do your worst. I'd expect nothing less from the mighty Prince of all Saiyans."

Feeling himself quiver, he stopped, hesitating from making his move at what she had said. Her words sent chills down his spine, they stirred something deep inside him, a sense of meaningfulness that he hadn't felt in such a long time. The command _Say that again _ran through his head and sat at the edge of his tongue, but he could not bring himself to say anything, so choked-up as he was at realizing just how lucky he was to have this woman, how fortunate he was to have someone who could read him so well and tell him the things he needed to hear and give him reassurances. She was so infuriatingly keen-witted to his needs and to what he desired, but at times like this he was glad for that.

Nobody addressed him by his rightful title anymore, nobody except her. And he found it was much more meaningful when she said it, along with the remembrance her words instilled in him, the sense of self-worth and purpose that he needed. For once he was glad for her loud mouth, of how she spoke these things without restraint nor guilt, and he needed this. He would give her everything she wanted if he could get her to say it again. It might have been for his own selfish pride that he would give her as much as he could offer, all to hear something that boosted his ego and fulfilled his pride, but he didn't consider it as selfish for a moment, thinking only of how much he owed this gracious woman who went out of her way to make him feel special and important. And now, he realized, he was important to her, as she was important to him. He didn't want anything more than he wanted her now. Pushing aside his thoughts of his quest to become a Super Saiyan, every other priority was forgotten by him as he looked at this woman panting underneath him and awaiting his next move.

To let her know he approved of her use of his title he chose to physically reward her – he would make her enjoy this as much as he would. He leaned forward and kissed her as gently as he could manage, applying the pressure of his tongue on her lip and eventually pushing it inside her mouth; he had remembered she said she liked kissing with her tongue. While he hadn't been comfortable with the notion, he partook in it all for her enjoyment. He found it wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought, her soft and gentle tongue timidly pressing against his in a pathetic struggle for dominance, which he found amusing as he quickly squandered her attempts by taking complete control, stroking his tongue against hers forcefully until she gave way and allowed him to explore her mouth. At having tasted his victory, he moved on from her lips to fervently kissing her along her jaw, moving on a path along her neck and making his way back over where he had left bruises on her with his earlier rough kisses, only this time he soothed the sting of each bruise with a quick sweep of his tongue along the discolored flesh. He felt her squeezing her fingers into his back as she breathed out his name in surrender, "Vegeta-"

"That's _Prince_ Vegeta to you," he growled low into her ear.

It was barely audible, but she said what he wanted to hear, not above a breathless whisper, though her sassy tone read clear, "Alright, _Prince_ Vegeta."

He could no longer contain what he felt, and there was no way he could speak of it, so he channeled his gratitude physically, leveraging himself and for a moment noting the imploring look on her face before his visual concentration was lost to him. He shut his eyes briefly to focus entirely on the feeling he received as he embedded himself within her, breaching her slowly at first until he drove in with one quick thrust. She whimpered at the slight discomfort, from this angle it was just a little uncomfortable. To accompany him she pushed against him with her hipbones, arching her back and lifting it from the mattress until she was at an angle where he hit her painlessly, sending only sparks of pleasure through her.

For the first few seconds he moved slowly, then he set his pace, quickening with much more force. He was bruised and battered, and it was a physically demanding task, requiring every bit of his remaining strength and his careful attention, for it was no longer his own satisfaction he sought in the act. He wanted to convey his message to her and to get her to remember that her words were important to him, so he paid close attention to her, feeling when her legs quivered and her breathing became frantic whenever he did something she especially liked and derived pleasure from. Not only in battle was he a careful tactician; he used his honed attentiveness now, recognizing and remembering what movements got her off, applying the knowledge and storing it away in his memory. He was wise and a quick learner, and he was discovering different things she liked, vowing to remember them well for use in the future.

She lifted her hips a foot off the mattress to capture every inch of him inside her, moaning from the effort and the receptive feeling surging through her core. He could practically feel her responding pleasure reverberating through him, sensing the waves of elated energy signaled from her. It was such an overwhelming thing to feel that once again he had to fight to hold off from reaching the apex of his gratification, but it was too much to bear, the feelings he felt from her so intense that it was unavoidable. He quickened his pace, riding through it and allowing himself to gradually succumb to his elation. His fists clutched the bed sheets at her sides, his palms so sweaty that the sheets were drenched and may have slipped through his fingertips. The fingers of one of Bulma's hands tangled into his dampened hair, her other hand sliding along his back curved along her, shaky fingers unsteadily trying to hold on to his rocking body, her grip faltering on his skin outlined with perspiration. She hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her so he was plunging so deeply insider her that she breathed in only very sharp breaths. Their bodies moved together rhythmically, swaying back and forth, Bulma arching her back further until he was as close to her as possible, his abdomen meeting hers. Her inner muscles constricting and contracting, her tightness was squeezing him until he was close to being pushed over the edge, while she was satisfied at how he was hitting her in all the right places. Underneath half-lidded eyes she watched him, seeing the intense concentration in his expression, a single bead of sweat clinging onto the edge of his nose, and he was biting down on his bottom lip so hard that he had drawn a tiny amount of blood. He didn't notice, his focus was entirely on the task at hand.

No longer able to impede, he managed a few quick strokes before he stopped, his entire body shuddering, releasing a choked gasp through his clenched teeth. He was spent and exhausted, and aside from the realization of what an intense thing he'd experienced he was disoriented and thinking of the sleep he craved. His body temperature was sweltering, as was hers, and from the pressure of his blood coursing with life through him there was a ringing sound in his ears, throwing his attention off. Brought down from her corporeal high, Bulma's breath slowed to long and even pants, trying to get her beating heart to slow down, while Vegeta's pants were thick and sharp.

It took him a good portion of a minute to recover, and once he did he looked down at Bulma, holding his eye contact with her. The look in his eyes was indiscernible, but he seemed to be examining her, trying to read her feelings and trying to convey his own. He could never say it with words, but he tried to communicate the smoldering passion he harbored, spoken more clearly than words alone ever could, giving her a look that physically said to her that she was his. She could not read what that expression meant, though the way he looked at her was so intense that her breath caught in her throat. She was expectant that he might give her affection, hoping for an embrace, but the moment was broken as Vegeta peeled himself from her, while she sighed when he slid free from inside her. Before she knew what was happening he was off the bed, pulling his shorts back up, but through her bleary vision she managed to catch a glimpse of his naked behind. Through her hazed thoughts she promised herself she would need to claw at that ass the next time she coupled with him. She remained contentedly dazed on his bed as he left the room, not looking back at her.

After regaining her breath, Bulma rolled over so she was lying on her stomach, though she was too weary to leave the bed. She was only mildly disappointed; she had wanted to cuddle or share another kiss with him. But though she had not climaxed through it, she had enjoyed it, much more than any of the very few orgasms she had previously experienced in her life. Vegeta was so cruel, cruel for making her feel so impossibly good. Where had he been all her life?

But he was a part of her life now, and she felt he was a permanent fixture. She had finally caught her prince, and now she would never let him go, and she was certain he felt the same way. He had enjoyed the sex, and she loved that he had liked it as much as she liked being that close to him. Somehow she'd managed to get him to let his defenses down and she'd managed to get close to him to form an unconventional relationship with him, one founded on respect and compassion, and of course the physical tension between them. She had managed this feat, and she was proud of herself for having captured the great Saiyan prince.


	26. Chapter 26

Bulma didn't cross paths with the Saiyan at all the following day. She assumed he was sleeping his exhaustion off in the Gravity Capsule, and she decided she would leave him be to allow him his space to recover from the amazing night they had shared.

What she didn't know was that he was not in the GR, nor was he anywhere in the compound. He wasn't even in West City. Post-coitus he had retreated to the infirmary, where he promptly collapsed onto the bed, getting some much needed rest. He had awoken after only four hours, and that was when it hit him - the gravity of what he had done. It was an intense thing, copulating, and he had enjoyed it very much. But he was filled with an unease, a thousand what-ifs ran through his mind, every one of them questioning his decision to go through with it. He sought solace, leaving Capsule Corp and avoiding temptation. He needed to be alone to think this over and come to terms with it.

Bulma meanwhile was inspired to make the most of her day, working productively on replicating Vegeta's armor. There were a few setbacks she was faced with, such as the difficult task of recreating the alien material, a challenge she had barely started to tread into. By the end of the day she had drawn up a design for the armor and the underclothes, making an addition of a high collar, similar to the design from the armor Gohan had worn on Namek. It seemed like a good idea to Bulma to include the turtleneck collar in her redesign, as it seemed extra protective and would serve to protect Vegeta's jugular from any shameless attacks courtesy of one of the androids. And, she thought devilishly, it would hide any hickies she would leave on his neck.

After dinner, and after seeing no sign of Vegeta, Bulma returned to her lab for some late night work, now that she had some time to herself. While she did enjoy the Saiyan's company, she did not want to pester him. That and she liked having some alone time to work independently. Half a cup of coffee kept her awake through midnight, but she ended up falling asleep, her head resting against the blueprints and designs laid out on her desk.

It was at 2 am when Vegeta returned. He stood above the sleeping and oblivious woman, critically observing the lazy scientist sleeping through her duties. He was about to turn and leave when he spotted the blueprints on her desk, and upon taking a closer look he saw her design for his new armor. He noted the enhancements she listed in her design, but there were a few flaws that he felt needed to be revised. He scanned the desk for the nearest writing utensil, his eyes landing on a blue pen. His permanent scowl hardened as he suspected that the woman had vainly chosen that color as a conceited acknowledgement to her hair. His eyes darted to her momentarily while he wondered what her hair would feel like under his fingertips. But he didn't want to risk waking her up to hear her shrieking, and he was not too curious about it.

On her blueprints he quickly jotted down written critiques, scrutinizing areas on the armor he felt needed improvement, especially regarding the shoulder straps, specifying that they needed to be durable yet comfortable; one thing he hated about his older armor was the crushing tightness of the shoulder straps. They were an extended part of the chest plate, and they applied an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his shoulders.

After he had finished writing he looked at Bulma, staring at her unfalteringly for a very long time, memorizing everything about her pretty face, which he would not see for a long time. He would be leaving. He had reached a mindset of utter uncertainty, deciding only that he needed to be alone, and he needed uninterrupted training on the field again in order to change up his regimen, as he had grown accustomed to gravity training. It would be beneficial for him to switch his routine after having been confined to a small capsule for months at a time.

He also intended to use his absence to test Bulma's attachment for him. If he was away for a lengthy period of time, as was the life of a warrior, would she still welcome him with open arms? Would the unconventional companionship they had between them falter? He had to test this out. It was natural for him to be uncertain about this sort of thing; he did not trust others easily.

But above all else he wanted Bulma to spend her uninhibited time free from being tempted by his alluring presence. Prevalently, he wanted her to finish the armor. He knew she was dedicated to her work and he knew she would manage to do it, but he needed to be away if he wanted her to be expedient. She needed her time to be uninterrupted, and he was aware that because her desire for him was so aggravatingly high and now after having succeeded in tempting him, she would probably be thinking of wasting her time fornicating with him tirelessly. While he would like that, he felt it would be unwise. He would rather have her vigilant and focused on her priorities. And while the sex would benefit him, her technical genius benefitted him much more. He wanted his battle armor to be replicated, the benefits of field training came in at a close second after that, and his desire to physically interact with this Earth woman was pushed into the farthest recesses of his mind.

And so he left, taking nothing with him, no training gear or food, intending to limit himself to relying only on what the wilderness could provide him.

Bulma did not see his scribbled critique on her blueprints, not until later the evening of the following day. It wasn't signed in his name, but she knew he had to have written it. The short briefing he had jotted down was in formal and eloquent handwriting, each letter sharp and geometric, his words meticulously and ruthlessly criticizing and insulting parts of her design.

It was painful for her as the days passed by and they slowly stretched into weeks, and she knew he was gone. It seemed he was uneasy to the idea of closeness; she couldn't understand why he would leave for any other purpose but to avoid her, unless he was on a ridiculous training journey.

But knowing he was hardened into being wary of getting close to her, she felt that maybe he needed this. And she perceived that he would return when the armor was finished, evidenced to her by his only message he had left before his departure. It irritated her to think that he expected her to work for him while he was away, but she took the challenge to heart.

Time passed by easily for her, as she had his armor to replicate, and a few things came up involving work she needed to do for her company. And though she was bitter and lonely, she waited for him.

She didn't know the wait would be so long.

* * *

A few days before the month of August drew to its end was when Bulma finished the armor. She had worked tirelessly and she was very proud of the result. The armor was a much more advanced piece of equipment in comparison to the older model she had based it on, and it proved very durable and able to hold its own against heavy impacts, and she was certain would be able to withstand any and all opposing forces. Having worked on the task for months, Bulma decided to reward herself with a well deserved vacation.

On the second day of September Vegeta returned to the compound. He nonchalantly strolled through the home, his first stop being the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge, helping himself to leftovers. He was running low on energy, and he was in such a weakened state that he could hardly sense the energy signals of anyone else, especially not the barely detectable power levels of weaklings such as every member of the Briefs family.

After replenishing himself he scanned the area, glad to notice that Bunny's presence was nowhere nearby. He would prefer to evade her so as not to be burdened by her coddling. Vegeta placed that Dr. Briefs was in his lab, while Bulma's energy signal was nowhere in the vicinity. He was relieved. He didn't particularly want to come across her just yet. He left the kitchen, opting to get some rest before he would continue his gravity training.

Later that evening, Bulma returned from a shopping spree she had rewarded herself with, dumping her shopping bags in the entryway of her home and instructing the servant bots to lug them upstairs while she headed into the kitchen. She saw a huge pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and half the food in the fridge was mysteriously absent. She was quick to place her suspicions on a certain person. There could only be one culprit responsible for this disastrous mess. She marched upstairs with a sense of assuredness and authority, though she had to work to keep her anger down to a manageable level.

She stood in the doorway of his room, peering in to see that her suspicion had not been unfounded. Her prince was there, a disheveled mess lying on his bed in a heap, one arm folded underneath his head. Bulma rapped her knuckles on the door frame to alert him to her presence.

He knew she was there, but he remained unresponsive, annoyed and hoping she would just leave him. She trudged into the room and stood above the bed, and as she got a better look at him she could see he had sustained a number of injuries. Bulma had the impression that he was recovering from a black eye by the faint bruising around one socket. Along his hairline there was dried blood that looked like it had been there for a long time. The tank top he wore was ripped along the collar, the skin underneath it covered in lacerations.

"If you're finished scrutinizing me, you may leave now," Vegeta spoke up, opening his eyes to glare at Bulma. He was startled to see that her appearance had changed dramatically. This bizarre woman always had to alter her hair, it seemed. She appeared to have fallen back into the curly haired phase, though it was nowhere near as disastrous as the fro she'd had. The length of her hair was shorter and her curls were much tamer.

He stood from his mattress and got up in her face, but he was alarmed when she circled around him, looking him up and down and taking in the damage. After stalking all around him for close to a minute she stopped in front of him. Her scowl faded and her face wrinkled up into a pitiful expression. "Did the androids do this to you?" she demanded.

"Of course not!" he retorted, insulted by the notion.

"Where have you been? You could have told me you were planning on leaving!" Bulma spat the words out, infuriated and unable to mask the wavering stress in her tone.

Vegeta was not aware that he was leaning back slightly while she berated him, but he held his ground and held his eye contact with her. It was no small feat. When this woman was angry she was downright scary, and he could not place why. As par his warrior's code and the reputation he needed to keep up, he forced himself to remain where he stood.

She stopped her scolding to glare at him, trying to stare him down, but he remained impervious. While she wasn't exactly happy to see him, and while her time without him had been productive, she had worried about him and she had missed him terribly. She couldn't stop the tears that welled up in her eyes, and Vegeta was horrified when she threw herself at him.

It was an unbearably awkward moment for him as Bulma clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder. He didn't return her embrace, nor did he push her away, though he would have liked to. He felt assailable, being held like this. For his pride he endured it, not wanting to show that it discomforted him, but, and a small part of him acknowledged this, it was also to keep from upsetting her further that he allowed her to maintain her hold on him. If he shoved her away and denied the comfort she sought in him, she would certainly become more distressed and angered. Despite how amusing that would be to him, it somehow seemed like a good idea for him to not further exhort her rage.

He was leaning as far away from her as he could while she still held her embrace. Being this close to her wasn't the least bit sentimental to him, however this physical contact, while at first uncomfortable, gradually put him in the mood for something more carnal and gratifying. With her so close to him he wasn't thinking about being affectionate or returning her embrace, and nowhere in his thoughts did he even consider consoling her. He was reflecting back to that night when they had coupled, and he was thinking about sex.

She didn't feel the same way.

He ignored her tears as he pushed one knee into her thigh, trying to guide her down onto his bed, but she shoved him away. He was stunned by the rejection, while Bulma snapped at him, "How many times do you have to leave me for months on end? Do you have any idea how bored and lonely I was?"

He quickly grew mad. "Do you expect me to be some lap dog? I have no obligation to keep you company."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you would at least tell me when you plan on taking off, you jerk!" Bulma fought, but hurt was in her voice. A pout set on her lips and she turned her head away from him to glare at the wall, and she muttered, "I was worried about you."

"Don't expect me to take part in your human practices of sentimentality. I am a warrior. I'll take off whenever I see fit," Vegeta stated. "And I will not abide for your foolish notions that I am bound to you, or anything just as ludicrous."

His words hurt her, but her pain was overshadowed by her rising anger. "So then, you think you can just show up here unannounced and expect me to hand myself over to you, after you've been gone for so long?"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes, but he broke his eye contact to ogle the rest of her body with interest. "I do. I've already given you a thorough pounding once already, and now I will continue to do so at my leisure."

She was very offended. "Once? You've done so many lewd things to me on more than one occasion. You've gotten your fill, for a prude, at least."

"Only because you flaunt your vulgarity in my presence. I had to put an end to your obscenity."

"I think you mean to say you couldn't keep your hands off me because I'm so irresistible. You can't help but pine after such an alluring babe. But now you're going to have to work much harder to earn it if you want me again!"

She was right, and they both knew it. She was proud that she had lured him in. Her pride in that matter wasn't unattractive to him – in fact, that pride she had in that feat was appealing to him, as it was a reflection on his own self importance. Winning him over was a distinguished feat, he had allowed her constant tempting of him to come into fruition because she was righteous and deserving of what he could offer her. But still, she would not go down easily this time. He would have to strive for it.

He continued to look her up and down, particularly keeping his eyes trained on her chest. As the weather was still fairly hot, she was wearing a spaghetti strap top, and it only aided in enhancing her cleavage. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

While she was bitter with him, she was relieved. She had thought he had been avoiding her with his absence, perhaps fearful and regretting taking their strange relationship further. But now he seemed so eager to go at it. Nothing had changed between them, it seemed. She was pleased to know this, especially at how much he wanted her right now. She vainly credited her charm and allure for that.

Still, she felt he was disrespecting her with his ogling, and she tapped him on his collarbone, making him flinch and succeeding in getting him to glare back up at her eyes.

Conspiring to get him to admit they had some sort of relationship, she slyly instigated a false allegation. "What if I told you that was a one-time thing? What if I said I'd rather have a man who could commit to me? Hmm? What would you think of that?"

He said flatly, "You're bluffing. You could not possibly fawn over anyone other than myself."

"I dunno, there are billions of other guys out there. I bet I could find a man who's able to be more committed than you could ever be."

That got to him. He saw her words in a different light, as if she were insulting his credibility and status, denouncing and underestimating what he was capable of. Not limited to just his prowess as a skilled fighter, he felt he had to be the best at everything. That might even count this companionship nonsense.

Grinding his teeth behind his lips, he closed the gap between them and muttered in a nasty tone, "Don't question what I'm capable of. If I wanted the misfortune of being committed to and putting up with a shrieking creature like you, I would assuredly exceed at it. I've endured torture worse than that."

Smugly, Bulma responded, her voice laced with sarcasm, "Pushy, aren't we now? Well, I think you've just proved you feel some sort of attachment for me, albeit of a creepy possessive and jealousy-prone sort. Still, I take it that means you just _love_ me."

Her teasing was becoming redundant and tiresome. He was done talking. All he wanted to do now as take his frustration out on her physically, through fornication. There was one way he knew he could shut her up and get her to concede – that kissing garbage she liked so much. He was gnashing his teeth as he leaned in for what would have been a smothering lip lock, but she backed away from him, swatting at the air in front of her. "Oh my god, you smell horrible! Take a shower before you try to make a move on me!"

"And just what makes you think I'd want to make any advancements on such an insufferable wench?" Vegeta snarled, aggravated by her evasiveness.

"I know you missed me, and you totally want to make out with me," Bulma said in a sultry voice. She sat down on the edge of his bed, crossing one leg over the other. "But you're covered in dirt and blood, and that is _really_ gross and unsanitary. If you want it, you'll need to clean yourself off first. I'll wait here."

He hissed between his teeth, but he spun on his heel and marched into his bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He was filthy and covered in old wounds, and he knew it would be favorable to take a nice long shower. As he cleansed himself off, he thought of all the horrible and impure things he wanted to do to her. And he was expecting her to be kneeling for him as soon as he was done.

He was disappointed and pissed when he reentered his bedroom, and she was not there waiting for him. She had led him on with a false promise. Thinking of nothing more than exacting his vengeance on her, he stalked through the home in pursuit of his quarry.

He found her in her lab. He approached her from behind, intending to ambush her and tear her clothes off, but he forgot his immoral longings entirely when he saw the storage container sitting on her desk. What caught his eye was the brand new set of armor inside the container.

He strode over to the desk to Bulma's left, distancing himself several feet from her. And of course he did not greet her. He was preoccupied with staring at his brand new set of armor with silent interest.

"Well, you don't smell _so_ awful now. That's a welcome improvement. I really encourage you to bathe more often," Bulma said, looking up from her work to smirk at him.

He glanced away from the battle armor to briefly glare at Bulma. "I tire of you preaching about that trivial hygiene nonsense." He directed his eyes back to the armor, while asking her, "I trust you followed my written instructions?"

"Are you saying you trust me now?" Bulma gushed.

Vegeta cut in, "Don't take my words out of context." His tone was strictly business-like. When it came to anything relating to fighting, and that included his battle gear, apparently, he was very serious and to the point. He inquired, "Did you implement everything I specified in the design?"

Shifting her hips and resting most of her weight on one leg, Bulma let out a sigh. "If you're talking about that mean note you wrote on my blueprints, yes, I did. I followed it word for word as best as I could. Recreating the material from your old battered armor was really hard, you know. I had to have lost several weeks' worth of beauty sleep. But I have to say I'm pretty happy with the result." She gestured toward the armor, pointing out, "Oh, and I improved the shoulder straps, just like you wanted. I even managed to make them slightly more flexible than the rest of the battle suit."

Any other man would have praised the heiress for her hard work and dedication, but Vegeta did not. He remained silent as he picked up his new set of armor and examined it closely. But a tiny smirk settled on his mouth, and Bulma did not miss it. By his expression he looked like he had just won a prize, and he was going to keep it all to himself.

"Well? What do you think? Close enough to the real thing, or better?"

"It's passable," he replied.

"I made you a new set of gloves and boots out of the same material, just like you asked. And don't forget, I replicated the bodysuit as well," Bulma said, taking the accompanying piece of clothing out of the container.

Noting the color, Vegeta frowned and said blankly, "It's blue."

"Yeah, the shade's a little close to the color of my hair. I figured it'd help you to remember the babe who made this for you, that way you'll always think about me." She winked.

It was much closer to the color of her eyes, not her hair, which had a faint green hue to it. He did actually like the color of her hair more, but he reserved that preference to himself, not wanting her to know he liked how her hair looked. He kept his eyes away from her as he thought about testing the feel of her hair again, but he forced the consideration aside.

Bulma held a proud stance now, her legs shoulder-width apart and her hands placed on her hips as she moved on to a more thorough textbook explanation of the armor, which Vegeta tuned out. Rather, he watched the way her eyes lit up as she excitedly and proudly talked about the battle suit. She was bragging, essentially. He saw how happy she was while she went on boasting her accomplishment, and, absurd as it seemed, he actually thought her gloating was attractive; even cute, although he would never use that hideous word aloud. It was not in his repertoire of vocabulary.

He did not know how to contend with the sudden fondness he felt for her, but to him it translated into a desire. And he thought about sex once again.

This woman had exceeded his expectations. He knew she would be able to recreate his armor in a fairly short amount of time, which was one of the main reasons why he had taken his leave of absence in the first place. With the outcome of her hard work came a refined and flawless piece of equipment, and it was even better than his older armor. And seeing her brimming with pride over her work was satisfying, in a way, and that was strange to him. But most of all he was thoroughly impressed with the result of her labor, but unknowing of how to voice his approval. But he knew of one way to reward her, and it would be something he would enjoy doing as well.

As she explained how she had woven the elastic material into the gloves and boots, he maneuvered around her so her back was to him. She felt him push himself into her. She frowned momentarily, wondering what he was up to. "_What_ are you doing?"

He didn't care to hear any protests she might have. He knew she liked fondling and touching and that sort of tasteless nonsense, so to persuade her into it he guided his hands down to her hips. He felt her shiver, and he knew it would not be long before he could get her to submit.

He was wrong. She pulled away and spun around to face him. "Hold on! What are you trying to do?"

"Just consider this my way of saying thanks," he responded vaguely.

It wasn't a direct appraisal, but she never thought she would hear him use the word 'thanks'. And it was in recognition of her achievement. His indirect praise lifted her. "Oh," she said, bashful and fumbling over her words. "Well, in that case-"

She didn't have time to get the rest of her sentence out, silenced by an aggressive kiss, the Saiyan pushing himself against her and backing her into her desk. His tongue met with her teeth while he unbuttoned her jeans and worked his hand into her underwear. That was when she pushed him away completely, scolding him, "Look here, pal. We're not doing anything. I haven't seen you in months, you can't just stroll in and expect me to welcome you between my legs! You need to earn back my trust!"

"Earn it? No. I expect it to be gift wrapped to me."

She could actually hear the sense of entitlement in his voice. And that arrogant smirk accompanied his words. In attendance with the smirk that followed on his lips, he freely looked her up and down. He seemed to be unselfconscious about his obvious interest in her. And the mean laughter in his eyes conveyed the impression that he was amused at her discomfort, and that bothered her. She stubbornly leered at him in return, quietly noting the tank top he had decided to dress himself in after showering. She could faintly see the outline of his etched stomach and the curve of his hardened pecs. The sight proved far too enticing to her, and she had to turn her eyes away, knowing that she couldn't abstain for long when he looked so inviting.

He was aware she liked what she saw. That knowledge only expanded the cocky smirk on his mouth. He shifted closer to her, his knees brushing her thighs, and she could feel his body heat. His confidence rattled her, paralyzing her where she stood. He clenched his hands, wanting to do so many lewd things with her, but he struggled to stave off until he earned it. He enjoyed the chase, he liked pursuing her, and he liked the resistance she was putting up. This was a battle and he wanted to win, and he would have to work to wear her down.

Her expression portrayed the indecisiveness she felt, but her uncertainty subsided when he craned himself forward, callously inciting her with a low growl, "I know how lewd you are. Don't tell me you wouldn't want this."

"No, I don't," she lied in a wavering voice, growing more tense with his advances. Truth be told, she was just as anxious and sexually frustrated as he was, and she definitely wanted to go at it again. Still, she always liked playing hard to get.

He snorted at the obvious lie she fed him. She was such a stubborn woman. He decided to use a sentimental slur to win her over, although it was the honest truth he was speaking. "Do not contest me. Everything I want should be handed over to me without complaint. And what I want is you. Be thankful that I'm willing to do this to reward you for your obedience, although I intend to do this mainly for my own benefit."

He was pleased to find that once again by cleverly saying something she would interpret as amorous, while rough and spoken under a conceited comment, had the desired effect. Bulma pursed her lip in an attempt to hide the beaming smile she felt coming on, but she could not conceal it. To Vegeta's slight annoyance she turned her head away demurely, cupping her face in her hands. "You _want_ me?" she said joyously, her words followed by a series of giggles.

He wasn't comforted in knowing his statement had delighted her to such an extent, but it did not annoy him enough to stop him from proceeding, blocking off her shrill voice with his mouth. It was a clumsy kiss and off the mark by a few centimeters, his oppressive lips landing between her cupid's bow and her nose. He hadn't done this in such a long time. She didn't seem to mind his graceless miss, though. She welcomed him in for more, delicate fingers intermingling with the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer.

What had started out as a heated moment quickly turned into a full-on make out session, complete with fondling and immodest groping. He never broke his mouth away from hers as he slipped his other hand back into her underwear, his intention to skip the foreplay as much as he could. She allowed him to probe her this time, stimulating her to get her prepared and willing for it.

Feeling her external organs, a corner of his mouth twitched uncomfortably for a short moment. This outer genital fondling was horrid to him; he'd thought a woman could only really enjoy intercourse, and to him it was odd that she got such a kick out of this. But he favored how completely vulnerable and defenseless she was, gripping the edge of her desk and keeping her eyes shut, letting thick pants out through her mouth whenever he pulled away from a kiss.

The air around her stifled. Her heart set at a pounding pulse that appended the throbbing between her legs, which quickened when his wrist slipped under her waistband, charting down below the moist fabric, and his digits dipped into the sweltering source of her torment. Her defense fell completely, and along with it her legs fell open for him.

She tugged on his shirt to bring her hungry mouth to his, delivering smoldering unabashed kisses as his demanding hand explored deeply into the slick confines of her. It had been such a long time since she had been the recipient of such indulgences, and she wasn't about to let him go now.

Charting an area he'd never really ventured before, he pressed against a risen mound, its swell sensitive to his exploring digits. Grazing over it with his fingertips, she bucked her hips in response before she pushed her pelvis against his hand, letting him know she approved of him touching her there. He turned his lips up into a sneer, which she felt against her own mouth. He was finding out how to weaken her with his touch alone, and he liked using her weakness to his advantage.

He was quick to apply what he learned on her, swiping his fingers over the flushed tip. She joined him with her own hand over his, guiding his fingers and planting them on either side of the structure, prompting him to roll them into a stroking motion. At her direction he scowled into another kiss, but he conceded, picking up the motion she had supervised. She accommodated his stimulation by bending her back, unaware when she rocked her hips against his hand and whimpering at the feeling brought on by the intense friction. He cautiously studied her as he worked, seeing how she chewed on her lip, sharply inhaling through her nose, her body trembling. She relaxed against him when he gave her what she wanted, accelerating and gradually building up her tension with his hand alone, until at last she was ready. Her breathing was erratic and heavy as faint waves of pleasure rose in her. He didn't even have to slip his fingers inside her to feel how aroused she was; he wouldn't have needed to, but he did anyway. With his thumb attending to her still, he pushed two fingers into her. Her muscles squeezed around the digits, fighting the intrusion.

He stopped moving his fingers, glancing down as he felt her core throbbing. What a lewd woman she was. He gave a throaty low chuckle, glad that his actions made his prey much more compliant and welcoming to him. He pushed further into her, watching her shut her eyes and fight back a whine in her throat.

It had been such a very long time since she'd had this. She was whirling and tingling all over, feeling her resolve slipping away. She pushed her hips against him to let him go in deeper.

He sneered. This shouldn't take long.

She would have to have no excuses now after the handiwork he'd performed on her, and now it was his turn to be satiated. He pulled back, to her slight dismay, easing his hand from her and quickly reaching below his own waist, freeing his engorged flesh from his shorts.

Just when he thought he had broken down the last resilient wall of her resistance, she recovered from her numbness to think coherently. No, she could not let him have this just yet. While she was appreciative of what he had just done, she was determined not to let him take what he wanted, not unless he was going to work harder for it.

As he tried to force her jeans off, she placed her hands on his chest, pushing him away. Breathing out a chuckle, she said, "You are very smart. You know just what to say to get what you want."

Did she see through his ploy? No matter. He was still going to proceed with it.

To his chagrin, she disconnected from him completely, zipping and buttoning her jeans back up. "But it's not good enough. You're going to have to work harder than that if you want to get into my panties again."

He was immediately outraged by her refusal, especially after what he had done for her.

"You're a hard worker. You'll manage. Eventually!" Her following laugh irritated him.

"And you're nothing more than a lazy slave! You'll beg for me, and I can't wait until you plead for just a taste of this," he said arrogantly, motioning below his waist. "You will say nothing short of 'Please allow me to blow you, _Prince_ Vegeta!'"

"If I'm going to beg for anything, it will be something along the lines of _please_ take a shower, stinky!"

That was it. He became so enraged that his clenched fists trembled violently.

_Uh oh_, Bulma thought, backing away a few paces.

Her remark was an instant libido killer. He shoved his now flaccid appendage back into his shorts before he quickly marched over to her. In one swoop he unceremoniously pulled an arm around her waist and hoisted her from the ground, carrying her under his arm as he marched out of the lab. He stalked through the house with her in tow, cursing and protesting loudly. He was handling her like she was his squirming luggage; it was definitely improper treatment of a lady. Her fists drumming against him were ineffective, her squawked protests falling on deaf ears.

His procession was temporarily interrupted when he crossed paths with Dr. Briefs in the hall. Bulma desperately called to him, "Dad! Help me out! This _jerk_ hasn't bathed properly in months and being so close to him is making me nauseous!"

Vegeta tightened his grip around her in an uncomfortable squeezing lock. She only squirmed more. "She'll serve as target practice during my training," he announced. "Now stand aside, old fool."

"Oh, hey there, Vegeta," Dr. Briefs called out good-naturedly. He didn't even retaliate, moving out of the way and bringing his mug of coffee to his lips, casually taking a sip. "Well, let me know how using a live target works for you."

"Dad! You traitor!" Bulma cried out.

Watching his squirming daughter being hauled away under the Saiyan's arm, the scientist mused out loud to the cat perched on his shoulder, "I don't think he's really planning on using her for target practice," he chuckled. "They're probably just going to go make out or something."

He wasn't too surprised. He was generally aloof when it came to that sort of thing, but he had seen the way the two stole voyeuristic glances at each other when they weren't squabbling. He supposed they might have had something going on between them.

Vegeta meanwhile advanced to the floor above Bulma's lab, while the heiress continued to feebly struggle against his grip. He had to chuckle aloud at how easily Dr. Briefs had stepped out of his way, despite how his daughter was in his custody and liable to his malicious intentions. "What a gullible father you have, and so loyal to me. When I conquer this world I might choose to allow him to live. Though I can't say the same about you."

"Where are you taking me? Unhand me right now, or I'll… I'll-"

He only laughed. "What can _you_ do? You're up against the most powerful being in the universe. You don't stand a chance against-"

His words were cut off when he felt a sharp pain surging through him. The heiress disabled him with a punch close to his groin. He drew a sharp breath in and was impaired instantly, his hold on her debilitated. He gawked at the numbing pain as she slipped away from his grip and bolted for freedom, leaving him momentarily crippled and reeling in the hall.

Fearing what he would do once she fell back into his sinister clutches, she fled to her bedroom, the only nearest safe haven. She knew his wrath was inescapable and he would soon catch up to her, although it was a little exciting to her to think of the rendezvous that undoubtedly awaited her.

She thought she had made it to safety as she crossed through the doorway of her bedroom. She made her way to the center of the room when she was seized and tackled from behind, crashing into her bed.

He imposingly hunched over her, his chest and abdomen against her back. Right away she began wiggling around. He would have found that amusing on any other day, but not now, not after she had nearly smashed his goods. He kept her thrashing legs down by pushing his knees into the sides of her thighs. With one arm around her ribcage just underneath her breasts he pulled her into him, at the same time bringing himself closer to her. From behind her neck she felt his breath on her skin as he panted maddeningly, wheezing as he was still not fully recovered from his pain. He coarsely ground out a dark threat between huffs, "You're going to pay dearly for that, harridan!"

His miscreant behavior and menacing words were having the opposite effect on her; his maliciousness layered under the sound of his pained huffing was turning her on instead.

Impulsively, she backed her ass into his groin. He shut his mouth and drew it in a line, humiliated into silence and instantly reminded of what he wanted from her. And, clearly, she wanted it too.

He was panting as he looked around the vicinity, using his reprise as time to recover from his sustained injury from Bulma's shameless attack. He realized he was in her room for the first time. This was unfamiliar territory to him. Her smell was overwhelming in here, and immediately he wanted her badly in this room. He was tense and on edge, highly alert, but also very intrigued as he stealthily took in the details of her room, noticing the transparent magenta curtains carried by a light breeze drifting in through the partially opened window. His eyes were then drawn to the cluttered disorder on the floor - large piles of trash, candy wrappers, smashed styrofoam instant noodle cups, snack boxes, beauty products, magazines, a crushed box of Lucky Charms, an extension cord strewn across the floor and hooked up to a generator of some sort, a cracked plastic McDonald's cup, some hazardous looking lab equipment shoved in a corner of the room, soda cans, a broken hair dryer, a hairbrush with most of its bristles gone… and a fecal surprise that her father's cat, Scratch, had left on the carpet.

Bulma always made a habit of carelessly discarding her garbage onto the floor, Vegeta presumed. The mess was very distracting to his senses and unpleasant to look at, but nevertheless he still wanted to carry out his lewd misdeeds and fulfill his craving.

He noted that on the bed to her left was a crumpled up and grotesquely vibrant pink blanket. He needed only to reach his arm out by a foot, grabbing the blanket and pulling it off the mattress, tossing it to the floor close to the bed, where it was out of his sight. The bare white sheets were more inviting to him without the atrocious blanket lying at her side. Now this was a more befitting setting to engage in the carnal rutting he sought. What would turn him off more than the mess in this room was that tacky pink blanket.

Bulma couldn't help but smile with amusement. His hatred for the color pink never ceased to befuddle her. The laughter playing on her lips was interrupted when he pulled away from her, grabbing her by her waist. He easily flipped her over so she was lying on her back. He gave her a grimace when she snapped her legs shut and pouted up at him, refusing to give in. But she could not thwart him, nor did she particularly want to deny herself the sex she wanted just as much as he did. And so, begrudgingly, she helped assist him in undoing her jeans, and as soon as the zipper was undone he quickly yanked her pants off. He reached for her underwear, but she swatted his hand away. She pulled them off herself, stubbornly insisting, "I can do this on my own!"

His hands found their way around her legs. He didn't bother stripping her shirt off; he didn't need to. He would only be using her lower half for his purposes.

"Do you have to do this so quickly? I'm not turned on at all!" Bulma complained, nitpicking at his impatient advancements.

"At this rate it shouldn't take me long to get you to submit yourself to me," he remarked snidely, sliding one hand down between her legs, all the while she held a section of her bottom lip between her teeth as he felt around at his leisure. When he retracted his hand from her, he took note of his slick digits. It was only faintly repulsive to him now, but to be callous and hoping to invoke her anger he marveled, his voice low and unkind, "How malodorous, the stench your pervasive longing is so pungent I can almost taste it. You are a poor liar."

Giving a sinister cackle, he backed away and moved downward, hoping to make her believe his actions were with evil intent and to make her subservient once he would begin his malicious assault on her.

Enunciating his name with sassiness and defiance, Bulma spat out, "Oh yeah? Well… you still stink like a sweaty little caveman, Vuh-gee-_duh_. One shower isn't enough to get rid of that gross smell."

He glowered at that. "You'll live to regret slandering my name!"

"Hah! As if that's enough to scare me. You're saying I'll live, at least. You're planning to keep me alive!"

The way she picked his words apart and pointed out positive things (or, on most occasions, things he said that she had the audacity to take far out of context and reword them as vulgar innuendos) annoyed him. He damned her for that, but though she was frustratingly thorough and overly analytical of him, he wouldn't have it any other way. She wasn't easy to contend with, and he always liked the challenge of overcoming obstacles to get what he wanted.

He leaned over her, boring into her eyes with his own as he falsely declared, "I'm only using you for your body. I'll wring you out to dry until I grow bored with you."

She couldn't ignore that insult. He was satisfied with the crabby pout etched on her mouth. He smirked his way into a painful kiss, painful for her, as he involved his teeth. "Don't expect me to be gentle with you, not like last time. You'll writhe and thrash about like the worm you are."

He was being so mean! But of course she had to credit herself for his unkindness. She had goaded his cruelty out of him. She enjoyed getting such a rise out of him, coaxing him with such meticulous ease and her stubborn resistance.

Defiantly matching his piercing stare she shut her legs once again, driving him on into her little game, wanting him to work harder and indulge in foreplay first. Or at least give her more kisses.

He wouldn't have any of that. "The longer you evade me, the more irritated I am becoming." He forced her legs back open with little effort, sneering at his little victory. "You make this too easy, weakling."

A wave of anticipation surged through her body, making her shiver. Following her body's involuntary reaction, she saw the wickedness spreading into a smirk on his mouth. With a cunning grin, he grabbed her by her ankles and pulled her hips up toward his face. He leaned over her, resting his collarbones on her open thighs. He narrowed his eyes dangerously and gave her a most horrible grimace to frighten her, else to see if she would not cower away.

She saw that smirk on his mouth that she recognized. He was definitely up to some sort of trickery. He looked down to survey the offering below him. She watched him relishing the view, scrutinizing her and assessing his next point of attack. Her body ached with foreboding, in her thoughts she was feeling she was about to be devoured at any given moment. Her heart quickened as he remained at a standstill, hovering over her. She could not hide the excitement nor her bewilderment in her voice as she anxiously questioned, "You're going to eat me out?"

He returned a threatening sneer, letting her know he would not be kind. "Eat you? No, I think I'll _maul_ you, so badly that your hideous Earthling genitalia will be mutilated and rendered unrecognizable."

Suddenly, to his sheer delight, she became very afraid. Her eyes widened, caution in her concentrated gaze. He liked that she was watching him so attentively. He would have to procure a grandiose show and leave her marveling, and then she would have no other choice but to accede.

The scent of her wafting in the room was overbearing, but here at the threshold of her feminine core it was inescapable and aperitive. Drifting from him was that compelling clean Saiyan odor that she could smell, blended with the oddly appealing sharp scent of soap and sweat. She could not turn him away, and so she did not decline him. In spite of how menacing he was, and while she was guarded and suspicious of his unpredictability and the likelihood that he might very well mangle her delicate flesh with his rough mouth, she had wanted him to take part in this. Most of all she wanted to reap the benefits from the act. She understood that she would get the most out of it.

Or so she thought. While he was pissed at her for her brazen below the belt assault on him, Vegeta had not forgotten the armor she had made for him. She was most certainly deserving of this, after she had worked so hard for him and succeeded in completing her assigned task. He would show his gratitude in this way, and, primarily, he would profit by getting her to concede by warming her up for the sex he wanted. He was sure she wanted it too, but she was just so damn stubborn. He would need to do something she would like to persuade her into wanting more.

A muscle beneath his eye flinched as he looked at the horrible thing down there. Regardless, he took a close-up look at the foreign monstrosity, determining that it would be in his favor to get over his slight discomfort of her feminine anomaly, if he were to comfortably carry on his trysts with her. He held back a tugging he felt at the corner of his mouth, resisting pulling his lips into a mortified grimace.

Well, it wasn't _so_ disgusting, he reasoned. She was so vulnerable now, and it was an opportunity he could not pass up. It would be a silent agreement to her terms if he would do this; that she would perform fellatio on him if he would return the favor. He had to admit he was very curious to see how skilled she was with that mouth, but that demanded that he would need to give in to what she wanted. That didn't bother him too much now, it was only a small sacrifice he needed to make, and he promised himself that after he did this she would have to blow him without complaint.

He didn't have the slightest clue what practices were involved in this debauchery, but he would find out what she liked on his own, experimenting and making assessments, getting confirmation only through reading her subtle body signals. He was not going to go through with it entirely, he was only testing, and his prime objective was to get her to yield to him. And that she was sitting back and letting him do as he wanted was fueling to his confidence and spurred him on. It didn't bother him that he was a novitiate.

Not caring to further prepare her for it, not caring to speak for his actions, and not waiting or asking for her approval, he advanced on her. He scouted an anomalous button sitting at the junction of her womanhood. It was a strange thing to him, but it seemed to make her go completely crazy when stimulated, and so he used that knowledge to his advantage. He could feel the trembling of her legs when he bore down on her, swiped his tongue over it only once. Following his progression she jerked and bit her lip to stop any sounds from escaping her mouth.

He sucked the tip flushed with heat into his mouth and held it between his teeth, letting her know he was in control and he could clamp his jaw down if it would so much as please him. Though he knew he could not, not in such a sensitive area with so many nerve endings. It would hurt her, and that would surely be a deal breaker and she would never want to sleep with him again, she would lose all her trust in him. He didn't particularly want that, especially not if it would mean the end of his sex life.

He glared up at her from where he was. She looked helpless, a silent whimper residing on her lips and her eyebrows were furrowed up pleadingly. He smirked in his victory, molding his tongue into a fine point and applying so much pressure she flailed around, her murmured protests droning in her throat. His method was unfashionable and novice in technique, prurient and systematic, but uncustomary as it was, his obstinacy and persistence was unprecedented; he did as he wanted with her, yet he was methodical, attentive and studious of her responses, and surprisingly his vigilance was invigorating to her.

She gasped at a brief unpleasant shock when he dragged his teeth across her. The sensation was too direct, and from the raw shock she clamped her legs together around his head. He was slightly annoyed by her knee-jerk reaction, though he realized he'd caused her discomfort. He couldn't fight back another smirk, but to be generous he swiped his tongue over the mound to sooth the sting he had caused her. He noticed she seemed to like that a lot, and he repeated the action a few times, leering at just how weak he made her. Following in succession he brushed his tongue against her at different intervals, his alacrity bringing such elation out of her, when ultimately he read that she was ready to give in when her body tensed and convulsed.

"Don't stop," she pleaded feebly when he relinquished and pulled away. He sat up and leaned back on his haunches, a hand clutched on one of her knees, keeping her legs still spread open for him. She could hardly breathe beyond her low urgent pants. He had to strain to hear her pitiful complaint, "Damn it… I was so close." She was crestfallen that he had kindled such ecstasy in her only to stop, deliberately and manipulatively choosing to end it when she was at her brink. It was just what he wanted – to leave her desperately longing for more.

He was vigorously wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, wearing a pained wince on his face. The acrid taste of an Earth woman in the prime of heat occupied every corner of his mouth now. It wasn't such an awful flavor, but it was much too enticing, and until he could rid himself of the taste he would be reminded of his acquiescence, a small blow to his pride, all to appease her. He had no intentions of ever doing that again.

He glanced down at her to see she was watching him. And, just to be extra mean, when he pulled his hand away from his face he turned his head to the side and spat. The entire moment he watched her expression change to an angry scowl, and that made him return a horrible lopsided smirk and a low chortle.

"Do you have to be such a jerk?" Bulma retorted, still lightly panting. To dish out her own teasing she smugly jabbed, "You said you were going to maul me. Liar."

He gave her a condemning look, as if the answer to that should have been obvious to her. "I had no choice but to desist. I couldn't get past that awful taste."

"What!"

Her agitation amused him thoroughly. A churlish grin wore across his face. He yielded another haughty cackle as he went on with his next course of action, pulled his flesh forth from his shorts once again. He was glad to see it hadn't been damaged from her earlier attack. Her gaze fell to take in the sight of his flushed erection bobbing unattended above her. To her shock he quickly worked himself into a heightened arousal with one hand, without her assistance. Gawking, she was surprised he wasn't embarrassed about doing that and having her witness it. She was even more surprised that he didn't demand her to do it for him.

He pushed her knees further apart and bent over her, settling himself between her legs and gripping them for leverage. But she delayed his advancement, grabbing the hand he had used to wipe his mouth off and introducing chaste kisses along his arm, her way of thanking him for what he had done, yet also hoping she could get him to continue tending to her lower half with his hand. He pursed his lip into a fine line. She added one final kiss to the center of his palm, which she felt tremble for a moment. His anticipation was curdling over by now. She wanted to make the moment special and to prolong the experience as much as he could, while he would prefer to get it over with. He was backed into deference, allowing her to delay just for a bit, silently vowing to himself that in return he would be as rough as he could.

His teeth pinched at the inside of his lip when she hooked her arms around his neck, forcefully bringing his torso down to rest on hers, while simultaneously tightening her thighs around his waist, his neglected erection firmly protruding into her inner thigh. He shut his eyes, his brows knitting together in annoyance as she started planting slow and fleeting kisses along his neck and the side of his throat. He felt the rise and fall of her chest, and the coy smile on her mouth against his own.

She couldn't see the sweat clinging to his forehead, his body beset with the agonizing wait, already he was so eager and impatient to proceed. He couldn't wait any longer. She squirmed against his muscles when she spread her legs further, bracing herself for him, and that was when he made his move. He quickly withdrew from her. She was startled as she was flipped over and splayed on her hands and knees into a more primal position; suitable for him, one where he could do what he liked from behind while she could not impede him with her kisses.

Before she realized what was happening, he had driven into her in such a quick motion it was as if he had punctured her, meeting with little resistance from her inner walls which seemed to cave in from the intrusion. He filled all of her with overwhelming force, his length taking her breath away. It took a moment for her body to respond, trying to accept his girth into her waiting flesh, her interior muscles contracting around his entire length with a crushing strength that he had to wince at. Her back's arch deepened from every sensation she took in. She babbled obscenities that soon faded into incoherent sounds, her hands and knuckles white as she gripped at the sheets.

She was disappointed that he'd ceased performing on her with his mouth, but his negligence was forgiven by the pleasure that racked through her when he began. She kept her lips tightly pursed so as not to moan loudly, but the sound was hummed in her throat.

It was impossible for him to keep his enthusiasm at bay. He didn't start out slow. Bulma's voice broke into a gasp as he picked up a hard pace, so fierce and turbulent that it was like he was pummeling her. She tried to accompany his movements, but the rhythm of his thrusts was clumsy and irregular. He seemed pretty damn eager to get it over with, while she would rather have the moment drawn out slowly.

She tried to reach her hands up from behind to touch him, but he pushed her arms down to her sides, locking his hands around her wrists, not wanting her affections. He released a dark but broken chuckle with every thrust. Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on the sound of him as he worked, panting through his clenched teeth, sometimes offering a ragged gasp, even at times giving strained chuckles at the sheer portentous elation he derived from this, especially his enjoyment at having her so defenseless against him. But his enjoyment managed to elicit a euphoria in her that increased her own gratification.

When he lifted his arms away from hers to lock them on the mattress at her sides for better leverage, she was able to reach one flexible arm around to him, sliding her hand across his lower back, then she shoved her hand down the back of his shorts to gently claw at his ass. He reacted with a frown, but her expert touch surprised him. The sensation didn't feel awful. In his generally critical and pessimistic outlook on everything, it was a decent feeling.

Gradually he fell into a more even pace, and she was able to lift her hips to match his thrusting, driving against him with rearward shoves, taking all of him in her. Undulating and moving with him, she accordingly matched his pace. He shuddered and let out an afflicted croak at her accompanying movements. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other propped against the mattress. Crouching low over her, his tongue bathed a path over her shoulders, followed by cruel scrapes of teeth against her skin, purposely antagonizing her, the woman beneath him writhing every time he nipped at her flesh. He hunched over her and dropped his head to rest against the mattress, his cheek brushing against her neck, the curls of her hair grazing his face. While she was distracted by the pounding he dealt her he brought one hand up and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pinching a few locks between his fingers. Just as he'd thought, it was soft and silky, velvety smooth in his rough hands. He was taken aback by the faint scent of some sort of perfumed shampoo lingering from her hair. It not unwelcoming, in fact the light fragrance was very enticing.

Strained grunts resounded in his throat when he lost his remaining self control and drove harder into her, forcing air through his teeth. Ripples of ecstasy surged through her. It was so near, finally she would experience that high she hadn't had for so long. She whimpered with the uncontrollable contractions convulsing within her. Just a little longer and she would have it…

He was ignorant to the feelings ignited in her; he plowed into her deeply with his final slamming thrusts, culminating his release with a throttled choke through his tightly grit teeth. He sighed, then he immediately broke his contact with her and pulled himself away, while she lay there panting, rolling over onto her back, wobbling and heaving in the rumpled sheets. Abruptly her ecstasy waned and died out, she was dismayed she didn't get the climax she'd been wanting. Close enough, she attested internally. To her, his improved technique indicated that she would have it soon enough. While he was still much too brisk about it, rushing through the experience, he was getting much better at learning how to adapt to what she liked. She noticed the coordination of his movements at the crest of his efforts, just before it had ended, had been very precise.

"Oh man, that was wild," she gaped. Her tone became harsh as she criticized, "But next time, slow down!"

_Good to hear there's going to be a next time_, Vegeta thought, smiling at his victory of winning her over, oblivious to whether or not she had been satiated, as he had been. While he'd had to disgracefully go down on her, it was a small price to pay for what he in turn got out of it.

Sitting at the edge of her bed, his tongue laved over his teeth and the inside of his mouth, a frown sitting on his features. He couldn't rid himself of the taste.

He was further annoyed when Bulma crawled across the sheets over to him, pushing herself into his back. He allowed it at first, but his aggravation intensified when she kissed the side of his neck, her fingers exploring his torso. His shoulders tensed and his frown deepened. He was not fond of receiving these post-sex affections. He wanted nothing more than to train, to test out that wonderful new set of armor she had made for him.

"Where are you going?" Bulma asked when he stood.

"Where else? I'm training," he gruffly responded.

"I'll bet you can't wait to test out the perfect battle armor I made," she alleged, a proud smile on her lips.

"Hmph." Of course. He was looking forward to trying it out.

"Man, I was gonna try to go celibate to punish you for leaving, but you sure changed my mind. Sneaky bastard," Bulma said. "Thank you for doing that for me," she recounted, referring mostly to the partial oral sex she'd received. She was genuinely grateful for it, but she added some sass, "Even if it only lasted a little while. I wish you hadn't stopped."

"You're indebted to me. Don't forget it."

Bulma went on with her rambling while he readjusted his shorts, "You know, giving a girl oral requires perseverance. You have to have stamina and the patience to build it up. It takes a long time. You can't just quit like you did."

Vegeta cringed and recoiled further away from her. How could she be so damn open about it? He wished she didn't have to verbally recap the experience. He spitefully chastised, "You make it sound as if I intend to do it again. What the hell would give you that absurd impression?"

"How would you like it if I started sucking you off, but I stopped after only ten seconds? Yeah, I don't think you'd be very happy with that." She smirked with another critique, "I don't mean to be a downer, but you need some work. I just-"

"You're right, I do require some _work_," he interrupted, twisting her words around, "You know what I mean by that. You're going to blow me." As he was leaving her room with a mean grin, he added, "But not today. I'll allow you to do it if I can somehow manage to trust you won't make an attempt to bite into me."

"You pig headed jerk!" Bulma shouted after him. He didn't retaliate, but she heard his sinister cackling as he tread through her doorway.

Damn it all, he had to be lying if he didn't trust her enough. Stubborn prude.


	27. Chapter 27

"Let me ask you something," Bulma said. She was sitting at the table across from Vegeta as he ate the remainder of his breakfast. He made an effort to ignore her, but such a feat was nearly impossible when he was contending with someone so brazen and obstinate.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" The heiress stretched her arm out over the table and snapped her fingers, right in front of the prince's nose. Vegeta glared at her, at the same time shoveling food into his mouth.

"You're not planning on leaving again, are you?"

So she was still preoccupied with that? His brows pinched together while he answered, "I'm going to resume using that gravity device. I have no further use for field training."

She seemed pleased with his response, but Vegeta digressed, "Don't get the idea that I'm staying here for your benefit. It's not my occupation to entertain you with my presence."

"You know you like being around me," Bulma said with a smile, adding flirtatiously, "And you know you need to stick around for the great sex."

The Saiyan almost choked on his food, his eyes darting to the entryway of the kitchen. Bunny was loitering somewhere in the next room, but she was within hearing range, Vegeta was almost certain of it. He recomposed himself, hissing under his breath, "Don't speak so crassly, especially while I'm eating! You might make me throw up! And I'd rather not have that blonde-haired harpy making any inquiries about your excessive lewdness!"

"Relax. Nobody's going to hear what I say," Bulma reassured him, though she lowered her voice, "Speaking of which, I think it would be a good idea not to tell anyone about what's going on between us, not yet. Got it? They'll freak."

He grimaced. But she was right. He didn't care to have her parents prying and getting into his business.

Bulma resumed, "Especially not anybody from the Z gang, or whatever my friends call themselves… y'know, like Goku, or Tien—he hates you—and, perish the thought, if Yamcha should ever find out…" Bulma stressed, "This is really important. You can't go bragging to everyone that you've landed such a hot babe."

"What makes you think I would waste my time associating with those imbeciles? I wouldn't lower myself to conversing with the likes of them."

"Yeah, you're right. You're not exactly on speaking terms with anyone other than myself, are you?"

"Anyone inferior to me, no." He smirked, adding falsely, "And that includes you."

"Obviously you're kidding, since you spend your time with me more than anyone else. And I'm not just talking about the time we spend in my bed!"

He abruptly stood from his seat, pushing his plate across the table toward Bulma, as if he expected her to take the dish to the sink and wash it herself. He then departed from the room without excusing himself.

Bulma knew he would probably hunt her down and pester her for illicit relations later, but she had other plans.

* * *

He sought her out later that night after 9pm, just as she anticipated. She was watching a movie in the family room, but he paid no mind to the television as he strode over to the sofa, silently demanding and expectant as he loomed over her, his arms folded.

He was smirking as he criticized, "How can you waste your time watching this garbage?"

She took her eyes from the tv to glare at him. She saw he was dressed in casual wear, a pair of pants and a dress shirt—both black, of course. Favorably, she could tell he had showered after training, but she could see some faded wounds and a few fresh scratches on his face.

His amusement faded when she didn't respond to his remark. He recognized the look to her eyes—she was assessing his injuries. Such a thing annoyed him to no end, that she could fret over a few insignificant wounds.

"Sit down, let me take a look at those cuts," she demanded, patting a cushion at her side.

He was much more interested in making a move on her, but he couldn't just casually tell her what he wanted. He wasn't comfortable with being vocally vulgar, not like she was. He was much more skilled at physically conveying his intentions. So he took her invitation, but only as a way of getting within a closer proximity of her. He sat down, right next to her, to her delight. He did not look at her, keeping his arms locked over his chest and his eyes focused on the film on the television set while Bulma looked over his injuries. They were not serious, and she could see that he had cleaned them himself, presumably while he had showered. Her worries waned, so she sat back further into the cushions, relieving him from her surveillance.

She began on a more comfortable topic for him, "So, how did your training go? Did you find your new armor to your liking?"

"It's adequate enough," he answered, never taking his eyes from the screen as he spoke. He was not particularly keen on engaging in small talk; he was preoccupied with plotting the best way to incite the woman and advance on her.

She was staring at him still, examining his stoic expression. His scowl hardened. He could not conjure up a thorough plan while under her intense scrutiny. He vouched not to dwell on his thoughts any longer, deciding that he would strike once he found the opportunity.

Sneering at the film before his eyes, he jabbed, "What is this, another one of your idiotic romantic comedies? I find the only comedic value to these is how laughably mundane they are."

"No, this is a drama."

_Even worse_, he thought, his lip curling into a snarl. He hatefully eyed the film, every once in a while voicing disapproving groans at segments that he felt were especially distasteful.

With his endless criticizing, Bulma chuckled, "I can tell you don't like these types of movies." She paused, considering, "You know what, why don't I put on something we both might enjoy?" Noticing the way his brows pinched together in annoyance, she added, "You may as well kick back and watch a movie with me. I mean, it's not like you have anything else to do other than train."

Without waiting for his opinion on the matter, she rented a violent battle movie, knowing he would prefer the explicit bloodshed.

As soon as the first splatter of blood flew across the screen—this time more realistic and in much better detail than in the previous horror film he had watched—he was watching the movie with all of his attention, almost forgetting about the carnal engagements he had been intending to do with Bulma.

He was so immersed in the film that he hardly noticed her sliding her hands up to his shoulders. One eyebrow twitched and he clenched his fists when she pulled his head down to rest on her lap. He shouted in protest, "What are you doing, you fool! You are not permitted to handling me this way!"

"Keep it down! You wouldn't want to wake the entire neighborhood, would you?" She shushed, "Relax. You must be worn out from all that hard work, right?" She tried coaxing him with a honey-laced compliment, "Just look at how much stronger you've gotten lately. You deserve a break."

Scowling, he watched the tv out of the corner of his eye, but his complaints were put to rest. He was admittedly a little tired, so he remained where he was, of course not without feigning annoyance by huffing. He would bravely endure this torturous affectionate assault she was issuing on him in the hopes that this would put her in the mood to move on to more lecherous things, then they would proceed to his new favorite past time involving her—fornicating. The indignity of having to endure this was intolerable. She would get her comeuppance very soon.

He kept his arms folded and drew his mouth in a taut line as she drew her fingers over the individual cuts and scratches on his face and chest. Every time she laid her finders on him he would react by twitching the corner of his mouth or flinching a muscle beneath an eye, his involuntary responses often followed by an uncomfortable lurching in his chest. These sentiments made him uneasy, especially when they were in a high traffic part of the compound. He did not want anyone to bear witness to such a shameful and very un-Saiyan like private coupling that he was partaking in. It was bad enough that Bulma saw this complacent side to him, but if anyone else was to know, that would completely strike his pride down.

"You're way too tense! Seriously, loosen up," Bulma instructed as she started massaging his shoulders, feeling how stiff they were. While he would prefer not to have anyone walk in on them to witness him being so compliant to this woman's affections, the vigilant kneading of her hands against his tired muscles gradually relieved him and put his worries to rest. He finally conceded to her touch, deciding that if anyone were to walk in and lay their prying eyes on this, he would simply blast them.

When she was finished attending to his shoulders, she weaved her hands up through his hair. By now the film no longer as interesting to him as her touch was. This wasn't sex, but damn if it didn't feel just as nice. It was gratifying in a different way.

While Bulma watched the violent movie alone, her fingers still kneading through the prince's hair, Vegeta no longer cared if he was caught. He closed his eyes and granted himself to indulge in her pampering. Then he allowed his thoughts to wander, back to what she had said earlier that day. She seemed to really get a kick out of spending time with him—and, he gathered, she wanted him to stay with her. For a moment he wondered what it would be like if he chose to stay here, to be pampered like this as much as he liked, and to engage in verbal scuffles with her every day. Maybe it wouldn't _be_ so bad…

He forced the thought from his mind. He didn't know why he had considered such a ridiculous notion, even for a short moment. He would have scoffed or chuckled aloud if he weren't so tired.

With this comforting attention Bulma was giving him, he could not ward off his drowsiness. Only minutes ago he might have been unsure if he wanted to fall asleep in such a situation, but he didn't care now. Gradually, he drifted into sleep.

He woke up some time after 11pm. It took him only a moment to recollect where he was, and unconsciously he pulled his mouth into a grimace when he realized he had fallen asleep. Bulma was just beginning to doze off, her eyelids drooping and her chin pressing against her collarbone. When Vegeta lifted himself away from her and turned his head to scowl at her over his shoulder, she yawned, rubbing her eyes to revitalize herself. "You're awake now? I can't believe I put you to sleep."

He quickly pulled away from her completely, muttering, "Of course you did. Your company bores me to near death." His voice was hoarse from sleep, sounding relaxed compared to the usual mean bite he had to it. Bulma immediately took a liking to this tone.

Her attention was drawn to his hair. She had to bite back a laugh—his hair was tousled and looked disastrous. She tried not to snicker when she informed him, "Couples do this stuff all the time. You know, cuddling and watching movies and stuff. If you'd admit we're together, we can do this more often. I bet you really liked resting on my lap, and that _great_ massage I gave you."

He only snorted. He expected to receive special treatment regardless of her conditions. There was something between them, that much was obvious, but he didn't care to place a name for it or admit to it, especially when she was so insistent about trying to get him to accept it on her terms.

"You'll readily offer up any service you can provide me with. You'll give me everything you can whenever I see fit," he stated.

"Everything? What do you mean by that? Are you acknowledging I'm your significant other? Not that I would need your confirmation. I know you love me."

"I'm aware that _you_ are annoyingly dependant on me. You're the one harboring attachments," he scoffed. "Tell me I'm not wrong."

She went silent, thinking for a while. He didn't like that. He expected her to flat-out tell him she was fond of him.

Finally, she relented with a sigh, speaking up, "I like you a lot, I really do. But…" she hesitated to finish.

"What are you blathering about now?" he grouched, liking her hesitation even less than he liked her failure to blurt out that she was infatuated with him.

At last she spoke up, "I'm just worried you'll leave me again. I know you can't get enough of me, but still, if you want to brag about these attachments I have for you, you have to hold up your part of this 'comradeship'. And you need to stick around, or at least stay in touch with me when you leave to train."

He peered at her, studious and a little perplexed. He was seeing a rare glimpse of uncertainty from her. He couldn't help but give a slight chuckle, finding amusement at her expense. It wasn't often that he could find this woman with her defenses down like this. He was feeling very confident, almost so that he nearly forgot why she was suddenly insecure.

"I don't want you taking off again," Bulma resumed, this time her tone demanding and devoid of that small glimpse of insecurity he had very briefly heard. "If you think I'm going to be attached to you, then you had better stay committed!"

He had gotten a lot out of her, and the self-preserving bastard in him vouched that he had no further use for her. But that wasn't true. He needed the constant reassurances that only she was able and willing to give him. That was worth more than having a quick fling and running off without her.

But he could never tell her such things. He could always hide his true intentions behind his cutting commentary and throw off her suspicions that he might be remotely fond of her. But, somehow, she could look past that front he put up. His remarks didn't seem to wound her, though he could always expect her to retort with a clever quip. He like arguing with her, and he always looked forward to engaging in verbal tussles with her. He could grant himself that small acknowledgement to how he felt about this Earthling.

With his silence, she continued speaking her mind to him, "While I don't doubt how strong you've become, there's always a chance that the guy from the future was right, that you would die against the androids. I want to spend as much time with you as I can." Before he could retort to her assumption, she threw in a compliment, "And when that prophesized doomsday comes, I want you here with me. I feel safe with you."

He had been ready to bellow out that he was guaranteed to survive against and kill the androids, and that Bulma was foolish for even considering that he might die, but that odd compliment she added threw him off. He didn't know what to think of this claim. She felt _safe_ with him? That was almost funny, and so ironic, as he had at one point attempted to purge her planet. But her trust and faith in him was oddly flattering, so he did not counter with a remark.

"I told you already, I have no further use for field training," he declared, pitting his full attention on her. "I'm not done with you yet," was all he would offer to put her at ease—Vague and very carefully devoid of any semblance of passion.

His answer made her downright smug. But she was persistent. She leaned forward, teasing him, "I want you to call me your girlfriend. C'mon, it's not difficult to say."

He wouldn't settle for something that belittling. He had already told her what he thought she wanted to hear. Apparently, that wasn't enough, to his displeasure. Trying to reassert himself, he stood firm, "I will not answer to your pathetic Earthling terms of endearment. A more proper term for your relation to me would be _personal attendant_. I suppose I can always find some use for your monumental lewdness."

"Is that your way of calling me a concubine?" she objected, all amusement in her voice gone. "I'm not your personal sex servant!"

She just would not relent! With a snarl, he settled for, "A more literal term for this ridiculous liaison I've found myself trapped in would be a coalition." _A forced coalition_, he thought, wishing he could say this, but the woman would certainly call him out on it.

"See, you lost me there. You have a coalition with me? What's that supposed to mean?" With a mischievous smile, she pressed, "Just humor me. I won't tell anybody how much you totally love me!"

Was this the admission price to goading her into behaving provocatively for his benefit? He didn't like how insistent she was on this matter. Rendered askance at her odd request, he asked suspiciously, "What is this, some sort of prenuptial agreement you're trying to barter me into?"

Pouting, she mumbled in her meekest tone, "I just want to know you like me as much as I like you."

Somehow, even surprising to himself, that line felled his resistance. Was that all she needed to hear to put an end to her badgering—that he liked her? He refused to look at her as he responded, barking out as unkindly as he could, "As long as you don't pressure me into complying with your stupid Earthling coupling regulations… you aren't _completely_ unlikable. Not all the time."

Although it was a very passive-aggressive response, she seemed very pleased with his answer, a smile stretching across her face. For admitting to this much, she decided she would reward him. And before long, she hoped, she could get him to tell her he adored her.

Brazenly closing what little distance was between them, she silenced what was about to be a vehement protest from him with a kiss. She was surprisingly aggressive, and he took that as a challenge, sparing no time in taking control, dominating her with his own smothering variation of kisses. Without breaking away, she fumbled around with his zipper, managing to yank his pants down only a quarter of the way, not bothering to shimmy them down to his ankles.

When she did pull away, she frowned when she looked down. "Wow. Do you go commando all the time or what? Haven't you ever heard of underwear? That's super gross."

Her critique didn't seem to affect him. He tried to proceed further, reaching with purpose for the waistline of her pants, but she swatted his hands away. "You really ought to have on some underwear. Look, like this."

He gawked, his mouth hanging open at what he saw when she peeled her pants from her legs to reveal a strange undergarment fitting snugly on her hips. The material consisted of see-through netting and the garment was made of almost nothing but flimsy strings.

This couldn't be something she could wear comfortably while going about her daily activities. She must have worn this under her clothes just to entice him. His blood curdled with both rage and desire.

"What's wrong? You think it doesn't suit me?" she asked as she observed his flustered and reddening face.

It wasn't unflattering, but he convinced himself otherwise. To him it was hideous and off-putting, but not foul enough to deter him. He would rather see her without it on. "It's an atrocious piece of clothing! You leave me no choice but to remove it!" He wasn't trying to be flirtations. With his angry face, what she might have perceived as dirty-talk sounded more like a threat.

Leaning back against the sofa, her arms above her head in surrender, she purred, "Just what I like to hear. Take it off."

While he favored that she was reclining on her back, so open and permitting him to advance on her, he didn't like that she was ordering him around. Instead, he helped himself to a different part of her body. He sat above her, his weight carried through his knees positioned at either side of her hips. He reached down, and in just one quick swipe of his hand, he pulled both her shirt and bra up to reveal her breasts. But he didn't strip the clothing from her, leaving her shirt rolled and bunched-up above her sternum and collarbone. She wasn't bothered, unopposed to a partially-clothed sexual venture.

He chuckled darkly when she twitched responsively to his fleeting touch. But when he cupped both breasts in his hands and squeezed her flesh tightly until his grip was too constricting. She squawked, "No! Not like that!" She grabbed his hands with her own, guiding his thumb and forefinger to where she wanted them. "Do it like this, and not so hard!"

He sneered and drew his hands away. He wasn't about to do as she instructed. He grabbed her by her bunched-up shirt and pulled her chest up to his face, his teeth nipping at the innermost curve of one breast, before forcing his mouth back over hers.

While she was still beneath him, and although she was in a less dominant position, she took control, reaching her hand below his waist and stroking him with her hand. He hadn't been expecting that. He broke away from the kiss and cringed, spitting a few foreign curses between his teeth. Undeterred, she guided him inside her, slowly lifting her hips up and along his length until she swallowed up every inch of him whole. It was all the incentive he needed to end the foreplay.

Grabbing her legs, he swiveled her around until she was lying on her side, twisting her hips and propping one leg up over his shoulder.

As they were both tired—especially him—he started out very slowly, much slower than the quick hard rhythm she had expected of him. She found she liked this slower pace much more favorable. With her other leg wrapped around his waist, she managed to pull him down to bring his face to hers for a deep kiss, which he returned without breaking his thrusts.

He quickened his pace suddenly, snarling and muttering a tirade of alien curses. This quick dizzying speed took Bulma by surprise. Her pulse leapt and caught in her throat and seemed to stay there, and before she knew what was happening, he had finished. He pulled away from her wordlessly, yanking his pants back up while she laid there, panting heavily, waiting and unsure of what had happened.

He glowered down at her. "Put your clothes back on, and be quick about it. That bothersome harpy is approaching," he informed her, and then he turned and left the room.

Bulma redressed and hopped off the sofa, turning the cushions over. She stormed from the room, a scowl on her face. She was not happy about these unsatisfying trysts with her prince. Their get-togethers thus far had been spontaneous and quick, only serving to satisfy the prince's long repressed needs. Bulma had let him do as he liked, justifying that the brute simply could not help himself from being too enthusiastic and finishing quickly without waiting for her to catch up. He had been starved of sex, she reasoned, and with such an attractive woman to couple with, he had to be overzealous. But she began to grow annoyed with how quickly he finished, and she would not settle with it. This was something she was determined to get him to work on. With enough teasing she could goad him into giving her what she desired, relying on her clever insults as her ace up her sleeve. She knew him well enough now that she could possibly incite him into wanting to prove he could do it.

* * *

The following day, Bulma treated herself to a spur-of-the-moment trip to the beauty salon, deciding it was high time she updated her looks. By midday, Vegeta was in the middle of his vigorous training routine. After her outing, Bulma stopped by her lab to check the Gravitron's output, and with the safety precautions she had installed that monitored his vitals, she noted his vital reading indicated that he had suffered some sort of trauma, and yet he was still pushing himself to his limit under 750Gs. She huffed loudly, but her concern for him was predominant over her urge to scold him. She activated the intercom in order to check on him and confirm that Vegeta wasn't incapacitated. Through the receiving picture she saw him snap his head up to glare up at the screen her face was projected on.

Instantly he took notice of her altered hairstyle; she now had parted bangs, her hair straightened and tied back into a high ponytail. He was befuddled by these bizarre hair changes these humans had. It must be some sort of human beautification ritual for these Earthlings to constantly alter their looks, he suspected. But he liked that her hair was out of her face to show off her features.

He was wearing his newly refurbished set of armor, Bulma could see, though underneath it he had on the old and badly torn-up dark-blue body suit that he had stolen from Frieza's ship. As most of his skin was concealed by his battle armor and bodysuit, she couldn't spot any outward bleeding or bruising. "Vegeta, your vital readings are indicating you have an injury. What happened?"

He permitted himself a scoff, but he did not bother answering her, so Bulma insisted, "I guess I'm going to have to go down there and see for myself!"

He rebuffed, "I don't need the unwanted intrusion. Don't interrupt me!"

"Interrupt you? You should be glad I'm willing to spend even one second with you!" She obstinately proclaimed, "You know you can't get enough of _this_!"

He choked out a startled cough when he saw her pull down the collar of her shirt, showing off her cleavage. How could this conniving, boorish woman shamelessly flaunt her debauchery like this? "You savage creature!" he objected with a brutish roar.

"Eat me!" Bulma retorted, flipping him off.

The corner of his mouth gave a fleeting spasm, threatening to turn up into a smirk, something akin to forced amusement, or pull taut into a grimace. He chose to omit letting any emotion show in his expression, to dissuade her from knowing her snarky comments and churlish gestures got to him. "Repeat that when you're not cowering behind that screen," he taunted, his tone leveled and dangerously calm.

Not one to back down from a challenge, she belted out, "Fine! I'll be there in a bit," flamboyantly waving and blowing him a kiss, just to annoy him.

By the time she stalked into the GR, he had disengaged the gravity simulation. He stood in the center of the room, taking on his customary self-assured stance; legs planted further than shoulder-width apart, arms folded, and glaring horrendously at her beneath a furrowed scowl.

She couldn't spot any injuries, not when he was covered nearly from head to toe by his battle suit with only his collarbone and neck exposed. "Remove your armor," she commanded, stalking right up to him. "Let's see how badly you've beat yourself up this time."

He scoffed with disdain, but without hesitation he complied, assuming she wanted him to strip down to cater to both of their lewd purposes. He stretched his armor over his head and tossed it to the floor—Bulma scowled at that—and he placed his hands on his hips, his legs still apart with his overconfident stance. His old bodysuit was tattered, one large hole exposing his abdomen, another smaller tear above his heart. From these small portions of visible flesh, Bulma still could not spot any injuries.

"Well? What's your prognosis?" the prince sneered.

She couldn't see if he had sustained any injuries based on what little she could see of his skin. _I might end up needing him to strip naked so I can check for wounds_, Bulma pondered, nibbling at the corner of her bottom lip. The thought was not at all unappealing to her. Her eyes continued to rove over his midsection. Of all the parts of his body that were exposed, it just had to be one of her favorites—his abs.

The Saiyan's frown faded and a smug smirk set on his mouth. He liked that his appearance could have such an effect on the woman, though he was not as proud of his looks as much as he prided his power. It was a shame this Earthling couldn't sense his energy. If she could, she might very well drop to the floor and spread her legs for him. She would surely be amazed by his prolific strength, especially since she spent her time around weaklings who were incomparable to his might. He so enjoyed flaunting his high-class status around her, and he wished she would gawk at his power rather than just his physical appearance.

She briefly looked him up and down, ogling the material of his shredded old body suit clinging to his thighs. She couldn't help but imagine watching him peel the clothing off his legs.

"How's the new armor holding up for you?" she asked distractedly, shifting her vision to her remodeled battle armor Vegeta had tossed to the floor.

"Decently," came his curt response.

"Decently? I think you mean to say it's _superb,_ bar none. You ought to be more appreciative."

"Oh yes, thank you _so_ much." His tone was laced with so much derision that it didn't even sound half-sincere. It wasn't to say that he wasn't appreciative. He wasn't used to dishing out compliments; he had to be a little mean about it, veiling his gratitude under sarcasm. Besides, he liked that she was doubtful of his thankfulness. It was simply too entertaining for him to pass up any chance he could get to mess with her.

He did have another motive. Even with this false compliment, he hoped he could coax her into sex. Having just exerted himself in his training, his adrenaline and testosterone were surging through him unimpeded. It didn't help that she had taunted him over the intercom, showing him a glimpse of cleavage. And the way the heiress was appreciatively looking him over fueled his sense of self-worth, and to a narcissistic and self-indulgent man like himself, that was a turn-on.

Bulma put both hands on his ribcage, lightly prodding at his skin above where his serratus anterior and latissimus dorsi muscles were, adding pressure with her hands every now and then while checking to see if he would flinch in response if her fingers travelled over a wound (she did not, however, notice a muscle at the corner of his mouth flinch every time she touched him). She attempted to make small talk as she was feeling for injuries. "I've been wondering, where did you run off to when you left? What were you doing?"

"Your backwater planet seems to have foul weather and suffers frequent natural disasters. I found this advantageous, so I endured them," he answered gruffly. When he had taken his leave of absence, he had tested his body's endurance, standing in one place while tornados, sandstorms, monsoons, hurricanes, and thunderstorms battered him. All the while he had mentally tried to will himself to get stronger.

"I'm sure I could just install some sort of artificial weather simulation in here if you need it," Bulma prompted. But Vegeta did not seem impressed by the idea. The moment she had started feeling him over, he had long since lost any interest in conversation.

When she worked her hands around to his back, he hooked one arm around her waist and in one quick motion he pulled her against him. This sudden affection caught her off guard and left her speechless, only a tiny surprised gasp came from her throat, followed by a shudder rippling through her. She mistook the action as a hug.

She couldn't see the wicked smirk on his mouth. He was pleased with the advantage he had over her. He could pull these affectionate stunts any time he wanted the upper hand, and right now there was something he wanted to initiate. She had interrupted his training and harassed him over the intercom, and it was payback time.

He hauled her up over his shoulder and stalked over to the ladder at the far side of the room leading to the capsule's living quarters. With her in tow, he descended to the lower level of the GR while Bulma sputtered surprised squawks of "Hey! Put me down!" and "What the hell are you doing!" He tossed her to the bed, where she bounced once before settling on the sheets, glaring up at him.

Prowling her with his eyes, he took his time thinking of what article of clothing he should first remove. He was guaranteed of having no interruptions from Bulma's parents here—they were well aware that they were forbidden from intruding on him while he was training. A quick and hasty tryst would not be necessary. He could help himself to every inch of her body if he so pleased.

When he kicked his boots off, she didn't need him to offer an explanation for his inurbane behavior. She knew what the barbarian wanted, and she wasn't going to give in without knowing he would extend the courtesy. Although she was not averse to hooking up with him, she expected to receive just as much out of it as he did. She leaned up, sitting cross-legged with her arms folded over her chest, her expression stern. She remarked, goading him on again, "Vegeta, look. I don't know if I wanna do this. It's getting boring, the way you can't last long. I'm sure you're capable of doing better, but I'm so irresistible that it's difficult for you to hold out!"

Seething with rage, he spat, "I could care less about what you want!" He added with a horribly mean-looking sneer, "I'll make it quick and painful just to antagonize you."

She pursed her lip and went silent. There were some nasty intentions lurking behind that smile of his. It was both appealing and frightening.

Seeing as she had clammed-up, he made the next move. He tried a different approach, advancing on her and attending to her neck with teeth-bared kisses. Slowly but surely he could feel her giving in, but, not to his surprise, she regained her composure and resisted. "Hold up! If we're going to keep doing this, you have to get me to enjoy it as much as you do."

"What do I care if you get any enjoyment out of it?" he cackled, running his tongue over his teeth.

"I'll bet you care," she started, husking out, "You said you would never try out my grotesque flesh, but it seems you've acquired a taste for human, after that favor you did for me." She threw her head back and laughed haughtily, "You almost managed to get me to have an orgasm that time. Almost!"

He clenched down hard on his teeth, wishing he had never done that for her, brief as the experience had been and though he had more or less done it to get her to concede with what he wanted in return.

Bulma then proclaimed with a smile that infuriated him, "I bet you can never get me to have an orgasm!"

"I bet I can shatter your entire spinal column the next time I pound you," he countered.

"Oh, I'm sure you could. I bet that would be easier for you than getting me to climax."

He clenched his fists, growing more irritated. The more she criticized his ability, the more he wanted to prove her wrong. She was always listing demands and expecting more out of him. He couldn't back down from disproving her when she claimed he couldn't do something.

He stripped both gloves from his hands with every intention of using both extremities on her.

Before he could make his next move, her eyes were drawn to his right hand. There was a deep purple bruising spreading across his knuckles, and she concluded that this was the injury that needed tending to. She took his hand in hers, prodding it and causing him to wince, while she continued, "I never would have pegged you as a coward… until now. I think you're afraid to try to please me!"

He spat a litany of curses, some in an unfamiliar language that to her sounded like it was spoken in a demon's tongue. "I'll show you it can be done with minimal effort!"

"Look, it's not that hard. You just need to slow down."

"Not that hard?" He pulled his injured hand away from her, blind to any pain as he groveled, "Who are you to criticize and defame me? I can manage such a simple task in a matter of seconds!"

"That's just the thing, though! You're way too fast! That speed might work to your advantage on the battlefield, but not in the bedroom!"

He was seething. But he allowed himself to quickly consider what she wanted of him. This presented a strange and unique challenge—to hold out while in avoidance of getting carried away. He could do it. He had to, for his pride and to prove himself. But most of all he had to prove her wrong, just to spite her.

Bulma insistently snatched the royal's hand again, kneading it and feeling for any broken bones. "Maybe I need to show you the ropes. I'll call the shots, you can just sit back and let me do it myself." She forced a chuckle, knowing that remark would get to him.

He relented at last, affirming, "Fine! Have it your way, you cretin! I'll prolong it until your body can't take it anymore, and you will beg me to get it over with. Let's see if you're up for it." Pushing her down against the mattress, he callously muttered, "You may end up regretting this."

"Oh, I doubt it," she remarked snidely.

An hour and a half later—

He was certain he had almost killed her, given the way her body became so weakened after the ordeal. The woman was sweat-slicked and practically gasping for air, her body barely able to do more than shudder. He would have laughed at her if he wasn't fatigued as well.

His efforts had worn him out considerably, and he stayed there, lying on his back, his chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. He didn't fend her off, though he frowned and groaned in protest when she pulled herself closer to him, incoherently babbling, "That was great… that was _amazing_."

He averted his sight from her, discontentedly staring down at the saturated sheets enveloping them, and through every breath he drew in through his nose he picked up the inescapable stench of sex. The odor had to be permeating every corner of his gravity capsule by now, to his chagrin. It would undoubtedly be a hindrance and serve as a reminder of these unchaste engagements he was partaking in while he should have been training.

Bulma rolled her eyes to gaze up at the ceiling. "Five times… I think…"

_Six_, Vegeta mentally corrected, trying to pry her arms from around his chest and neck.

He wasn't sure that making her enjoy it coincided with what he wanted. The majority of the ordeal had been spent with her critiquing him with snippy remarks and demands—"Not like _that_!" "Can't you go any slower?" "That's too hard! Are you trying to kill me_?_!" The endless tirade of complaints drove him up the wall. Before long, though, he had gathered the nerve to spew his own demands. Eventually when he excelled at his performance, she had given way to howling loudly, frequently whimpering and whining about how good it felt through the occasional broken moan. Compared to his own quiet and discreet pants, her loud shrieks were over-the-top and annoying to him.

He didn't know if it was worth all the effort he had gone through in order to satiate her when he could have gotten his fill quickly. He wasn't partial to the foreplay, and he had to force himself to overcome the refractory period after each round. He hated that. But as long as she complimented his ethic, it was good enough for him. And his pride, most of all. Of course, it was absolutely necessary for him to go above and beyond. He'd made certain that he had left the woman a quivering mess several times more than her required quota.

Vegeta pulled himself up from the bed, stalking over to the opposite end of the room where he had tossed his tattered bodysuit. "You've proven yourself to be much more lewd than I thought possible of you," he remarked when he forced the clothing back on. The heiress could hear that his voice was ragged and weak while he tried to maintain his gruff composure. He procured meanly, "Look at how I've weakened your fragile body. I'd almost think you were treading into the first stages of death."

"Boy, you are dense," Bulma rasped out, but she didn't care to make an argument. She was pleased that he had taken the effort, and it was evident he had strained his body so much. "You've exceeded my expectations as well," she commented, reclining along his bed while she watched him dress. "You're a lot more perverted than I gave you credit for."

He said nothing, avoiding having to look her in the eye. A pillow that had been hurled to the floor caught his attention. He frowned at seeing it there. He had been so caught-up in his raunchy exploits that he couldn't even recall how the pillow had strayed from its proper location.

Once he had pulled both of his bots and gloves back on, he kicked the pillow at the heiress. She barely had time to raise her hands in front of her face when the pillow made contact with her, hitting its mark before limply tumbling onto her thighs. She lowered her hands to reveal a scowl directed at Vegeta, which he chuckled at seeing.

"Keep in mind that I only did such lewd things to prove you wrong," he said, smirking cruelly when he added, "And to show you just how severely I can wreck your body."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have made it last for such a long time. You did that all for me!"

He would hate to admit that she might even be remotely right to assume that, but what he hated even more was how she was pointing it out.

"All to shut you up," he proclaimed. "Now get dressed and leave."

"Hey, you can't just toss me aside! And this stupid training pod is on _my_ property, I have every right to stay in this room if I want."

"_My_ room," he corrected, "And I want you to get out."

Bulma huffed and crossed her arms, pouting. "Jeez. You're not into the pillow talk thing, are you? You don't even want to cuddle or talk to me?"

He pulled his lip up into a snarl. "Pointless and revolting. I don't idealize hearing your voice again, not after you had just been shrieking so loudly."

"Why not?" she pressed, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

It was difficult for him to restrain himself from ogling her now. She was still naked (and completely uncaring and unselfconscious about it) and crawling over his bed, demanding more from him once again. Had all her incessant howling made her deaf? It seemed she obstinately refused to leave his quarters.

"Like I said," he repeated, "the last thing I want is to hear your insufferable shrieking."

"Okay, have it your way. I'll be quiet," she affirmed, shrugging. With the motion, her two perfect breasts bounced and bobbed. The prince flinched.

He might as well make the most of that stubbornness of hers, he decided. He could tell she was still fairly worn-out, her chest sweaty and heaving. She seemed to want to rest in his bed, but now that she was trying to coax him into kicking back with her, he would have to retaliate.

"By the way you're lying there helplessly, I'd venture to say you can't get up and leave, right? Good. That means I can do whatever I please with you," he said, yanking the glove off of his injured right hand.

Bulma observed the gesture with awe. "Wow. Up for another round already?"

"I only want to test your endurance," he abjured, treading over to her. He shoved his fingers into the hole of his bodysuit above his midsection, and without a second thought, he tore it open wider, expanding the cavity down to his pelvis.

"You're serious?" the heiress wondered aloud. She still hadn't calmed down from the matinee, so she was not opposed to going at it again, especially after what he had done for her. "Well then… just don't get me all chafed-up."

He scoffed, trying not to show his disgust at that blunt statement of hers. As he was getting astride of her and tried to descend onto her, she could not stop fretting over his bruised flesh. "I'd better take a look at that hand," she persisted, scrutinizing the extremity.

"You'll have more than a look at it," he growled, dismissive of her concern.

"But that has to hurt. It's all bruised-up!"

His hand wasn't bothering him much at all now; in fact, he felt nothing from it in comparison to the fresh wounds across his back, courtesy of Bulma raking her nails across his skin. She was a prolific hypocrite, one minute she was fretting over insubstantial injuries he had received during his training, then the next thing he knew, she would dig her talons into him during sex, trying to tear his hide off.

"Imbecile. I assure you, it's _fine_." Encroaching the digits of his bruised hand between her legs, he insisted with a low growl, "How many times do I have to prove you wrong?"

A Saiyan's tolerance to pain proved to be exemplary. Perhaps the injury was not as serious as she thought, she decided, if he could do _that_ with his bruised hand.


	28. Chapter 28

Vegeta had a dream that night—but for one who seldom had any pleasant imaginings to mull over in his sleep, it might have more appropriately fallen under the term _nightmare_. The majority of what had taken place was forgotten by the royal. The only premise he recalled was that it was a precognition of his near-future; and more specifically of his foretold death at the hands of the mechanized harbingers of death. He had not seen their faces, nor did he know the precise circumstances surrounding how he lost his life against them, but one very significant detail stood out to him: he had not ascended to become a Super Saiyan, and yet he had still attempted to fight the androids. And he lost, and not just him, but all of the Earth's fighters, as prophesized, were also killed. Not that Vegeta cared. Their lives meant nothing to him other than serving as recurring annoyances.

One other aspect of his dream struck him. With every one of Earth's defenders deceased, deep in his subconscious he was afflicted by the knowledge that Bulma had been left to fend for herself. It would be presumed that she too would be slain. That salient inner strength she had could not serve her from a pair of cold, calculating machines.

Unlike with the rest of the Earthlings, this was one death that affected the Saiyan prince. He didn't see her die in the dream, but he knew it was irrefutable—whether his dream was an omen of his predestined future or otherwise, outside of his delirious reveries, the physically feeble woman would be shown no mercy.

It was 4am when Vegeta awoke, drenched in a cold sweat as he sat rigidly in his bed. A gut-wrenching feeling of unease occupied the prince upon waking. He was disoriented, and finding himself chagrined over the thought of his ill-fated future… and, though he would rather not admit it, he was uncomfortably disconcerted to mull over the thought of the very probable mortality of the Earthling woman he had allied himself with. He stumbled out of bed, deciding to take his mind off his perturbing thoughts through a torturous early morning training session.

It frustrated him to no end, as if fate was mocking him at every turn. Not even in his dreams could he gain the legendary status he sought. Rather, he was having nightmares about being killed off, along with being subjected to this newfound apprehension that Bulma would be left to meet a fate as grim as his.

In the short time spanning his death and hers, he wondered, would she grieve for him? The stomach-churning sensation he felt subsided, but only by a marginal amount. If—or _when_—he died again, he was certain that he would be missed by one person at the very least. This was not at all an unpleasant thought.

Bulma was sentimental toward him. She cared for him, annoying as it often was. But he needed that. As long as she lived, he and the memory of his fallen race would be enshrined in her memory. The Prince of all Saiyans wouldn't be remembered by anyone if she were to die. The notion made him uneasy. But it was only a dream, he reasoned. He would ascend and prove to everyone just how great the Saiyan race was when he would soon tear those second-rate puppets limb from limb.

But with this imposing dream he came to realize that he was gradually transitioning into feeling something for the heiress; a festering empathy working its way into his being. The understanding of this was half-welcomed. He was a little satisfied by the knowledge, ascertaining that he was one step closer to his goal. On the other hand he could not help but be troubled, feeling as if he was being corrupted in his quest for strength by consenting to losing a part of himself and his grasp on his Saiyan instinct to remain ruthless and cold, priding himself on holding no attachments and forging bonds with no one, especially not with those lacking in brute strength. Investing himself in a mortal being was unwise; holding onto his pride—an unyielding, limitless force—was much more familiar to him, and pride was without eliciting such shameful emotions.

And if experiencing this human compassion nonsense really was the method of gaining the legendary status he wanted, if he already felt this much for an Earth woman—just as Goku felt protective of and concerned for the well-being of his family—then why hadn't it happened yet? The Prince of Saiyans should have become a Super Saiyan by now.

Perhaps with these brewing (albeit wretched) feelings for Bulma, maybe all he needed was just a little push before it would happen, just a little more of that petty attachment. The disappointment of not achieving his goals straight away was something he knew well; he could contend with it for the time being. These feelings for this Earthling female were far more irritating, but enduring such trivial emotions would be a small price to pay if it meant he was one step closer to what he ultimately wanted. Goku and his brat son seemed to have the ability to tap into unprecedented reserves of power when their loved ones were endangered. The royal hoped to find this sort of sentimentality to his benefit. He was slowly beginning to get a grasp on what it felt like when the life of someone who was somewhat meaningful to him (other than himself) was threatened. If this was all it took to claim the legendary standing he strived for, he was certain it would not take him much longer to learn to exploit these emotions and use them to obtain his birthright.

For the entire day he holed himself up in the Gravity Capsule, feeding off his negative thoughts and more determined than ever to reach his goal.

* * *

Just as the sun was about to set behind the hills lining West City, Vegeta grudgingly limped into the infirmary, careful to avoid crossing paths with Bulma's parents; he did not care for their meddling, especially not when he was bruised and battered from yet another unsuccessful day of training, which had only encouraged his temperament and his tolerance for jesters into souring. But he did not particularly mind if he was encroached upon by Bulma. He could sense her making a path through the halls somewhere nearby, no doubt looking to pester her favorite grouch.

Some part of him would have liked if she would barge in and patch him up. It was shameful for him to admit it, but he knew he had pushed himself too far with his training today, and the result was fruitless. Once again his goal had not been met; instead he had pushed himself beyond his limit at the expense of his health. He had not allowed himself any breaks to rest, torturing his body under a constant 1,000Gs for well over fifteen hours straight. He was severely fatigued, and he now had a few dozen additional bruises and scraped-up portions of skin spanning his torso.

He dug through the drawers and cabinets of the infirmary, helping himself to medical supplies. He applied blotting pads to the scrapes on his skin to lift away the light bloodshed, then administering antiseptics to his wounds before bandaging them up. Having been more accustomed to being treated in healing tanks while he was in Frieza's army, his patch-up job using more primitive medical supplies was crude at best. Once he was finished, he set his sights on the infirmary bed. He decided it wouldn't hurt to rest here rather than making the journey through the mansion's halls to get to his room. It didn't particularly matter to him where he slept in the compound—every part of this house was his territory, as far as he was concerned.

He didn't bother getting under the blanket laid across the bed, simply kicking back along the neatly set sheets, one arm under his head, the other on his stomach—both fists clenched, of course. He would never be caught off guard, even when he was at rest.

Just as he was getting comfortable, he heard the door to the infirmary open, then shutting shortly after. His brows scrunched together, but he didn't bother opening his eyes, knowing by scent and the particular energy signal he felt that it was his harping shrewd of a servant who had intruded on him.

Thinking he was asleep, Bulma sat down in the desk chair next to the bed, pursing her lip as she looked over Vegeta's bandaged form. As she was considering whether she should tend to his wounds while he was lying there seemingly unresponsive, the prince barked out, "How long are you planning on staying here to ogle me?"

"I should've known you were awake," Bulma said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "I saw that you hurt yourself _again_ when I checked your vitals a while ago. I figured if you weren't passed out or dead, you would either scurry off to hide somewhere to avoid my 'coddling', as you put it, or you would track me down and politely ask me to fix you up. But I'm surprised you came in here to address your injuries yourself… unless you were waiting here for me to do that for you."

Seeing the annoyed look gracing his features, Bulma jeered, "Did you want me to kiss your owchies, sweet prince?"

"Don't bother," he grouched, shifting over so he was lying on his side with his back turned to her. Though he had to admit the thought didn't seem too unappealing, if it meant she would lavish him with her mouth.

He felt the mattress sink down when Bulma crawled onto the bed alongside him, aligning herself in an embrace from behind so she was spooning him. He brought his shoulders up when she curled her arm over him to prod a bandage on his chest. He restrained himself from spewing protests—while he was agitated and wearied, this invasion of his personal space didn't feel _too_ horrible.

Fingering at the bandages Vegeta had dressed his wounds with, Bulma observed, "Hey, you didn't do such a bad job patching yourself up."

"Hah, like I need your affirmation that I've done a more impressive job than you could ever hope to manage."

He scowled when he felt her pinch his shoulder.

"Don't be a jerk," Bulma remarked while her eyes roved over Vegeta's physique. She noticed an untended scratch above his shoulder blade that he must have overlooked. The skin hadn't been broken, so there was no bloodshed, to her favor. She craned her neck forward and planted a kiss on the injury. Vegeta flinched briefly, but once the heiress ran her hand up and down his arm and simultaneously pushing her pelvis against his buttocks, his annoyance was put to rest and his drive for sex immediately amplified.

"If you're such an amazing medic," Bulma prompted, whispering into his ear, "Then why don't you do something about the hickies you left all over my boobs?"

He cringed as he could feel said breasts pushing into his back, her chest which he had inflicted with nips of teeth and left bruises all across the delicate surface of her skin.

She maneuvered her hands onto his chest. He shuddered, seething with rage. She was playing the harlot and flaunting her debauchery around him, aware that he was an invalid, in pain and in need of rest. He had an assumption of what she sought from him, and just knowing of the impure intentions she wanted to act upon sent his flaccid appendage springing up, to his displeasure. He hadn't been in the mood for any sort of carnal encounters when he had strolled into the infirmary—he'd actually wanted to rest and recuperate more than anything else. But with these physical affections the woman was imposing on him, his decision was gradually waived.

The heiress continued massaging his chest with sweeping movements of her hand, unaware of the attention Vegeta was itching to receive further below. Tentatively she inched her hand down to his abdomen. He drew in a sharp breath and held it, anticipating for her to shove her hand down the front of his shorts so she would discover what he wanted from her.

To his disappointment, her hand merely strayed along his lower abdomen, and then, to his horror, she scrunched her fingers deep into his gut, sending subduing shocks throughout his torso. He recalled instantly what this oppressive assault was—she was _tickling_ him again, some sort of sadistic assailment for her amusement.

He turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder. His horrible scowl was all it took to deter her.

"Woah. If looks could kill…" Bulma relented, putting an end to the tickling barrage. Giggling, she managed a half-hearted apology, "I'm sorry." For good measure and to cement her insincere atonement, she lowered her hand to grope at his groin, only to draw the extremity back and gasp at what she felt. "Oh, wow. I can't believe I missed _that!_"

_It's about time, wench_, Vegeta thought, gritting his teeth and hoping this self-proclaimed genius was brilliant enough to know what he wanted her to do next.

"You want me to take care of this, don't you?" Bulma issued slyly.

He scoffed, feigning mild disinterest. "Not unless you can manage to impress me."

He was fully expecting her to work him with her hand now that she had discovered the evidence of his arousal, but now both of her hands snaked their way over his abdomen. She began tickling him even harder and more furiously than before.

It was a struggle for the prince to remain rigid through the tirade. He jerked in retaliation, intensely seething and spurting hedonistic protests through his tightly grit teeth. But Bulma would not yield, pushing her body closer against her prince so the two were squashed and effectively locked together at an uncomfortably close proximity along the tiny infirmary bed.

"Look at how vulnerable you are. You can't even move, can you? Good!" the succubus taunted him, feeding him a repeat of the line he had tormented her with the day before.

Her attention was diverted from tickling him for a moment when she set her sights on his hind quarters, shoving both hands down to grope at his ass. Enraged fully, Vegeta spun around and sat up, shouting, "Stop this foolishness at once!"

The heiress sat back on her haunches, pouting as she saw the monstrous grimace her counterpart was directing at her. "Sheesh, I was only trying to lighten the mood, you perpetually uptight mister grumpy pants!" Tickling this scowling prince seemed to be an upsetting experience to him. Bulma could not help herself from finding some amusement in that. "I'm only teasing. You don't have to be such a stiff. Well, aside from _that_," she added, leering at his crotch and snickering, "That can remain all stiff and erect. But your attitude needs some serious work!"

He could not believe the absurdity of this creature's blatant foul moth. And aside from her senseless chattering, how the hell could she derive any enjoyment from these displeasing physical encounters with him? But he allowed himself a moment to ponder—Perhaps if he indulged in these stupid couplings, it might just help him get closer to what he yearned for. Certainly Kakarott's shrieking woman had him duped into taking part in such strange Earthling rituals. The royal wondered if this had helped lead the lesser Saiyan into gaining his power; his petty interactions with his hollering human wife. But Vegeta didn't want to dwell on such revolting thoughts, and knowing the exact details of the inferior mongrel's courting strategy didn't appeal to the prince. He would use his own methods, which weren't even remotely gentle in nature. And he'd have to give this woman a taste of her own medicine; if he was to engage in this amicable trash, he may as well gratify his taste for the malevolent at the same time.

She didn't protest, welcoming the switch of who played the dominant role when he spun her around and pushed her down into the bed. He then secured one of his hands around both of her wrists, binding them together so she could not oppose his onslaught. When he shoved his free hand under her shirt, she thought he was going to fondle her breasts, but instead he felt around deeply in her belly, curling his fingers into the unprotected flesh while callously declaring, "Don't think your misdeeds will go unpunished. Let's see how you like being subjected to such intolerable treatment!"

She tried in vain to free her hands, but to no avail. He only tightened his grip and dug his intrusive fingers into her abdomen more forcefully as punishment.

"No, stop! That tickles!" Bulma wheezed out between bouts of laughter, bucking helplessly against her captor whose fingers writhed against her helpless gut as he went on torturing his victim. He in turn gave dark chuckles at seeing how defenseless she was.

Eventually she went limp, haggard and laughing weakly with tears of forced merriment in her eyes. Frowning, Vegeta ceased his offense and pulled away in disgust. To him it seemed his fray upon her had given the woman a mini orgasm, an adverse effect he had not foreseen. He decided he didn't like dishing out this tickling shit on her. It had felt like torture when she tickled him and he had wanted to take vengeance and dish out the same treatment on her, but she seemed to like it, giggling away like a buffoon. He was certain this woman had to be a sadomasochist.

He sat back, scoffing as he looked down at the spent woman. "You can dish out this torture on me, but you can't take it yourself. Not only are you insufferable, but I'd say you've pegged yourself as a self-applauding charlatan."

"Look who's talking!" Bulma retorted, panting as she lifted herself up by her elbows. "You went down on me, but you won't let me return the favor."

"You've _bitten_ me once before." _And I do _not_ want you sinking your teeth into me where it may actually hurt_, he acknowledged internally as an afterthought, not willing to speak such self-debilitating words aloud.

"I only bit you because you were coming on to me in a creepy way," Bulma asserted, "It won't happen again, as long as you play nice. Can you trust me to do it now? I'll bet I can get you to weep from how awesome it'll be!"

He gnashed his teeth, but he offered no open grievances against her statement. Admittedly he was very curious to experience it. She had such a skilled mouth, and he could only wonder how that talent of hers would suit him where it mattered. Besides, he was sure she wouldn't dare sink her teeth into him again—not that he would tell her he trusted she wouldn't.

"I'd like to see you try," he admonished.

"I'll do it right now if you tell me you love me!"

"I won't say anything so ludicrous. I've said before, if it'll amuse you—and though it hurts my pride to conform to such a meaningless thing—I might not dispute founding a temporary coalition, one centered on these lewd engagements, at the most. But to prove your worth as a worthy courtesan, you will have to fellate me."

"Oh, I don't think I can," she averted, innocently feigning, "I don't know if I could fit _every inch_ of you in my mouth."

He leered at her, seeing right through her folly. The woman was sly, playfully denying him with a compliment. But it was still a rejection, and she was the one who had broached the subject of sucking him off. She couldn't back down now, not after she had caught his interest.

He played against her ruse with a condescending sneer. "Did you think I wouldn't call you out on that obvious bluff? You're telling me that your foul loud mouth that lets loose a tirade of hollered obscenities can't handle me? I think it would entertain me to see if you would attempt to prove me wrong by blowing me right now, especially if it'll keep that mouth preoccupied from harping on about subjects of no importance."

Her smug features gradually morphed into a scowl. She sat up rigidly, glaring at him fiercely. "That's your mean way of saying '_please_ blow me, Bulma', isn't it? Alright then, let me prove to you that my bragging rights aren't undeserved when I leave you utterly speechless, and don't get bent out of shape when I _harp on_ and say I told you so!"

Rather than getting right to it, she hopped off the bed and headed over to a cabinet at the other side of the room, opening and fumbling around with the contents of one drawer until she retrieved what she sought, holding it between the tips of her middle and index finger. She held back a snicker at the clever subterfuge she had orchestrated. With her back to Vegeta, he could only hear the crinkling sound of a wrapper being torn open—he was unaware that the heiress had preemptively hidden contraceptives in the room.

Ordinarily he would have been perceptive of her cunning, but his thoughts happened to be elsewhere. He marveled at how obstinate Bulma was, wanting to prove herself and show him not to call into question her integrity. She was just like him. If he was to invest so much into another, forge a bond with someone if it meant he would be granted the power he pursued, he had been fortunate in choosing this woman who turned out to be just as stubborn and boastful as she was. These were traits he could relate to.

Before returning to her houseguest, Bulma locked the infirmary door and flipped the light switch off, submerging the room in darkness, save for the faint dim glow from the small desk lamp next to the bed. She spun around and marched over to Vegeta, instructing in a husk, "Sit back."

He obliged, though not before a vainglorious smirk flashed across his lips. He shifted astern so his back was propped against the headboard framing the mattress, not bothering to seat himself on the comfortable silk pillow; he tossed the unwanted item across the room. He locked eyes with Bulma and folded his arms over his chest, giving a scornful grunt to convey that he wasn't willing to wait any longer.

His smirk faded and his mouth drew in a taut line when Bulma crawled onto the mattress on her hands and knees. She stopped short of his chest, hovering over him. It was a submissive stance she was in, but with her positioned above him with such an imposing look in her eyes made him feel suddenly knocked from his pedestal.

She caught sight of the brief flash of hesitation and the way he tensed. She did not bother holding back a proud grin. He may have goaded her into servicing him, but perhaps now he was beginning to realize he was surrendering himself completely to her. She would be the one in a position of power, and she reveled in knowing it. She placed one of her palms on his thigh, feeling the subsequent bracing of the muscles underneath.

He thought she would engorge herself with him straight away, but she only began sweeping the fingertips of her free hand over his lower abdomen. She looked up at him to see the agony unfold in his features as he was forced to wait for her to begin her grandiose performance. At last she lowered her hand to the waistband of his shorts, tucking her fingers in and tugging the article of clothing down to free his waiting phallus.

"Don't hold back," Vegeta demanded. "For a woman who prides herself on being excessively vulgar, you had better leave me beyond impressed."

"Go all out, eh?" The heiress yielded, "Okay. You asked for it."

She wrapped her fingers around the girth of him, prepping with painfully slow vertical strokes while wearing a pert smile on her mouth. The anticipation was too much for Vegeta to bear—the fiend was toying with him. He found he had to exercise a remarkable amount of restraint in not grabbing her by her hair and pulling her head down to engulf his entirety by her throat.

As she continued working him with her hand, she scuttled backwards before lowering her head above his lap, pressing her lips against his lower abdomen, distracting him as she covertly slipped her hidden prophylactic into her mouth. The act went unregistered by Vegeta, distracted and impatient for her to service him.

"Get on with it already!" he decreed bad-temperedly, unable to hide the strain of need in his voice.

From under a veil of her thick lashes, Bulma shot him a venomous glare, unsure if she liked the way she saw Vegeta's smile curve into a nasty (albeit devilishly provocative) smirk. His sneer was soon annulled when Bulma swiftly and roughly lowered her hand to grasp the base of his shaft, brining her head down to meet his aroused flesh. He offered no more complaints as he felt her breath fanning the crown of him—he stilled completely and watched as she delivered one experimental swipe of the tongue along the surface of his glans. He stifled a groan crawling up his throat and fought back a shudder waiting to ripple through him.

Her mouth strayed above him as she pecked at him with soft, delicate kisses and the gentlest of nibbles. She was more effectively testing his patience than anything else. Bulma was undaunted by the flexing of his forearms and his clenched fists—_Man, he is utterly lacking patience,_ she thought. _Fine, I'll show him! He'd better pay me back after this!_

She wore a scowl of concentration and determination as she maneuvered her tongue, adding varying pressures and patterns as she swiveled around just the tip of him. This time the shudder was obvious in his voice when he gasped out.

What was once a symbol of death hanging ever present across his rigid form was reduced to grudging permissiveness. He was tense now, open to and awaiting the moment when she would take control over him, and he in turn would relinquish himself to her.

She glanced up at him, watching his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, just before she slowly lowered her mouth around him, relieving him at last. He damn near came right at that moment.

He flared his nostrils suddenly then, picking up an odd odor that he was immediately repelled by. He was appalled when Bulma pulled away completely, and he could see that there was a horrible contraption smothering his length. Worse yet was the color. _Pink._ She had garnished him with a condom that she had hidden in her mouth.

Speechless and repulsed, Vegeta quivered with silent rage while Bulma adjusted the condom with both hands, fitting it until he was snugly sheathed.

"Why you… _wretched_—" Vegeta sputtered, a vein on his forehead noticeably throbbing with his fury. "Remove this atrocious device at once!"

Pinching the tip of the latex to make room for his inevitable expulsion, Bulma chuckled, "Nope, sorry." She jabbed a finger at his erection, the motion causing the phallic appendage to bob. The prince watched with abject horror at such mistreatment of his royal genitalia. As if falling for her subterfuge hadn't been mortifying enough, she had to add insult to injury!

"It's strawberry flavored. _Yum_," Bulma purred while Vegeta remained silent with shock. "Hey, the head of your penis looks like a strawberry. I'm gonna eat it up!"

Shaking with rage and a muscle beneath his eye in rhythmic spasm, Vegeta struggled to still his wrath. But the heiress' crude remark was forgiven when she proceeded at last, stroking him while flattening her tongue on his wet tip before taking him in her mouth, assuming a slow, gradual vertical motion of her head. Vegeta clenched down on his teeth to keep from choking out a strangled gasp at the sensation racking him in currents.

He never dared tearing his eyes from her, watching awe-stricken beneath his perpetually scowling brows as she lavished him with such exclusive attention. She seemed to know exactly what to do, and that control and confidence of hers was overwhelming.

She arched her back, raising her rear end with the intent of giving her prince a view of her ass, but his eyes were set on her mouth. She laved her tongue over him before introducing a subtle hint of teeth with minimal pressure, not enough to hurt him, merely covering her top incisors with her lip while drawing one long swipe of her tongue along the underside of his shaft. He especially liked that, quivering and spitting out a torrent of expletives through his grit teeth.

When she released him once again, he became irate and agonized at such cruelty this woman possessed. But to his amazement, she peeled the condom off, freeing him from the device. She wore a frown as she observed his engorged flesh, fussing, "Huh. Like your ego needs any more stroking, but I think it's a little too small for you."

Of course, her words served to elevate his already inflated sense of self-worth. He thought she would resign from her duty now that the contraceptive proved to be useless to her, but she resumed where she left off, to his surprise. The sensory reception was amplified without the flimsy device separating her from him; he nearly blew his load at the euphoric feeling of being in her mouth undivided by the latex barrier.

Repealed from his previous feelings of bitterness toward her for introducing the undesired condom in the first place, he watched her, astounded and taken aback. Her trust in him was moving, almost—she had mentioned before that she would not go at it without protection. He rasped out openly, losing the will to curb any obvious signs that her work could bring such powerful physical responses out of him.

Amused by her ability to get such a reaction out of him, Bulma chuckled, the sound humming in her throat—Vegeta felt her laughter reverberating against his flesh. Knowing she was deriving merriment from his plight made it difficult for him to hold back; he had to fight the urge to thrust upward. He knew if he did that, she would likely clamp down and embed her teeth into him. She was testing him, surely, forcing him to tread through such dangerous waters. She had to be intentionally playing out her own brand of cruelty, teasing him mercilessly, pulling back just as he was gracing the pinnacle of pleasure, only to show him that his patience (or what little he had of it) would be worth it. The trust she allowed him wasn't a bad addition to the bargain, either.

She picked up her pace once she felt his body tightening. Placing both hands on his thighs, she clawed into the flesh beneath her hands, deriving a snarl from her victim. It didn't take long for him to groan and shudder, spilling his release in her mouth. She stilled and stopped abruptly. When she pulled away, she had a sickened grimace on her face at holding a wad of his collected seed in her mouth. By her expression she seemed she was about to vomit.

"Imbecile. Just spit it out!" Vegeta command in a low, haggard rasp; his voice was devoid of its usual spite.

She hadn't wanted to offend him, but with his authorization she did not hesitate to reach for a box of tissues atop the bedside desk. Turning away from Vegeta, she held a tissue over her mouth and discreetly spat into it. After recovering from the unfavorable taste occupying her mouth, Bulma glanced at Vegeta, scrutinizing his expression for any sign of offense, but he didn't seem too insulted, oddly. His usual scowl resided on his face, but he did not appear especially riled. He looked complacent, almost… though she accredited her skilled mouth for that.

Bewildered, she had to say, "Wow, I totally would've thought you'd be the type of guy who'd insist I swallow."

A look of absolute disgust settled in his features at the notion. "Absurd. Is that something you Earthling trash practice regularly; ingesting one another's waste? What appalling creatures you humans are."

"It's just a kink! Besides, you and I swap spit and reproductive fluids all the time. I'm surprised you don't reel in disgust from that alone." She held a hand up to her mouth to stop from laughing wildly as she thought, _There must be so many dirty kinks and fetishes he doesn't know about… I can't wait to see how he reacts when I tell him about facials and BDSM!_

She was determined to broach such discussions into the bedroom in the future, gleefully imagining how flustered and embarrassed her prince would be to learn of such vile Earthling mating habits. But aside from teasing him, there were many positions she was curious to see if she could coax him into. She was glad she had bought an extensive Kama Sutra picture book long ago; perhaps now she could put it to use rather than let it continue to sit and collect dust in the corner of her closet. Though Vegeta was fairly short in stature, he was amazingly spry and nimble. She could only marvel at thinking of what he was capable of anatomically. Delving into oral sex was only treading the surface of what they had yet to do together, or she so hoped.

Exhausted after his ordeal, Vegeta lay back contentedly, his eyes closed beneath his scowling brows. Bulma could tell he had really liked her performance. And she had enjoyed it as well—it was empowering for her, watching him tremble and listening to him sigh was well worth the trade off. Yet she hoped he would return her courtesy.

"If you want me to do that again, you'll have to return the favor. Deal?"

He scowled and turned his head away. He had greatly enjoyed her service, and he expected to receive this attention from her mouth again in the near future. He might have to consider agreeing to her terms if it meant cementing fellatio as an integral part of their sexual repertoire.

"Hey," Bulma nudged Vegeta in the arm with her elbow, gaining his sparse attention. "What did you mean by a coalition? In a less cryptic definition, I mean. That's your way of passively saying you love me, I'll bet."

"Before you come to such ridiculous conclusions, get this straight. I'm not going to exercise your Earthling coupling practices. I am agreeing to a temporary truce only because I've found you beneficial to a variety of my needs."

"_Temporary_?"

Her question was met with a mean chuckle—the anger in her voice clearly amused him. And his mood had been elevated after her service of him. He felt he would find more merriment in antagonizing her. "Fine, I'll rephrase my terms—you will be my servant and dedicate yourself to working for my benefit, for all eternity."

"Well you know what? I've found _you_ beneficial. Yeah, you're so _sweet_ and kind and lovable! I just adore you."

He sneered. "I would expect as much. There is no reason you shouldn't be infatuated with me."

"Oh, of course not," Bulma quipped, rolling her eyes and throwing in a sarcastic jibe, "Can you really blame me? Just _look _at you. No girl could resist a mighty prince with such an endearingly large forehead."

A little ego-feeding was never unwelcomed by Vegeta, even if it was issued as a backhanded compliment. A smug smirk settled on his mouth at having his self-esteem gratified, and he said nothing more to contest her.

Her compliments weren't aimed with only flattery in mind—she had a hidden motive. "You know, doing that for you—_fellating_ your amazingly well-endowed equipment—really turned me on," Bulma said with an impish glint to her eyes. "Hey, do you think you could maybe give me what I want now?"

"And what would that be?" Vegeta asked reproachfully, his elation quickly evaporating and souring into suspicion.

"Care to go for a muff dive?"

He cocked on eyebrow, the other remained set in a scowl. "A _what_?"

"Oh, honestly. You know what I mean."

He was not familiar with vulgar Earthling slang, but if he had to venture a guess, he suspected the harpy wanted him to reciprocate. "No, I think I'd rather take a nap," he cut rudely, reclining on the bed.

"Oh. You don't have the stamina to go on."

It wasn't even a question, and that infuriated him. Immediately pissed, Vegeta snarled, "I could pound you for hours on end until you took your last breath; such a prolonged pummeling to your weak body would surely kill you!"

"Is that so?" Bulma laughed haughtily, her disbelief ringing clear in her voice. "Why don't you prove it, then?"

Grimacing, Vegeta sat back up. "That's a decent attempt at a ruse, but your bluff has been called. I won't let your ploy go without due punishment, however. You will regret invoking this."

He was well aware that she was luring him; he knew this, yet he was not bothered going along with her ploy. Not after what she had done for him.

He spun her around, wrestling her against the mattress and pushing her into the sheets by the weight of his body. His roughhousing was gladly received by her. She very eagerly parted her legs for him in welcome—always ready for these lewd engagements it seemed, she wore a flimsy skirt, which he hiked up above her hips with ease. At least she was wearing a modest set of underwear this time, Vegeta noted appreciatively. He gripped the panties by the hem and freed her from the undergarment, tossing the article over his shoulder.

A series of heavy palpitations racked Bulma's chest as Vegeta loomed over her imposingly, wearing a scowl on his face that clearly said _Let me prove you wrong_. No matter how often they'd coupled thus far, she still hadn't gotten over that dark, animalistic nature he possessed, and his noteworthy determination to impress her and to go above and beyond her expectations (though it was mainly his ego that was responsible for his dedication more than any conscious urge to sate her).

He positioned himself between her legs, but before he could guide himself into her Bulma complained, "Hey, hold up! Don't go right at it. Shouldn't you get me worked up a little more?" Hoping to sway him in her favor, she threw in a wink and a compliment, "You _are_ pretty good at it, you know."

"What more do you want me to do? Simply being in my presence should be enough to rouse your zeal," Vegeta affirmed arrogantly. But he could not dispute her claim that he was good at even the most menial of tasks (and, though he hated to admit to it, he liked the carnal necking that came with foreplay). Not wanting to disprove her, he decided there would be no harm in postponing his recuperation. He did not loathe obliging to her request so long as he could apply a bit of cruelty via his sadistic brand of pre-coital courting.

Leaning forward until the weight of his body was close to flattening Bulma's lungs, he kissed her roughly. She welcomed the endearment, even when he added nips and scrapes of teeth to her delicate mouth, followed by swift and almost apologetic swipes of tongue. He ventured to her next, never ceasing to add a primal hint of teeth with every kiss. He could feel the pulse in her jugular against his mouth—and it was a violent, thrumming pulse she had. "What a nuisance. I should rip that heart out," he muttered against her neck while bringing a hand up to grasp one of her breasts. The barrage of tongue and teeth charting her neck and his mean remark made her whimper.

He had largely avoided the fragile skin of her neck before now—some time ago he might have been afraid to let his instinctive yearning for the kill override his conscious reasoning, but now that urge had faded and was replaced with a brewing fear that someone else might harm her. He had learned to exercise every bit of restraint and control he could; he'd never harm her, though he preferred for her to think otherwise, as it amused him when she was wary of his intentions. Now that he was certain he wouldn't lose himself to his suppressed instinct, though, he wanted to mark this place thoroughly.

He bore down on where her jugular throbbed vulnerably beneath her skin, preparing her with one rough kiss before he sucked hard, adding just enough pressure from his teeth to frighten her, eliciting a quick gasp from Bulma. He made a path to her shoulder, while she intertwined the fingers of her hand with his. She asked him, "So, you're going to stay with me after you take out those androids, right?"

What a sly and conniving wench, interrogating him when he was in a position where he could not back away! She felt him squeeze her hand—out of irritation at her question. She mistook the action as a positive response. "You _are_! I'm so happy!"

Bulma's delight was repealed when her hand was constricted painfully under his hold. "_Ow_! Let go! Are you trying to cut off the circulation in my hand or what_?_!"

He released his grip, and the heiress rubbed at her hand to encourage blood flow. "Why would you submit your hand to mine if you weren't permitting me to crush it?" Vegeta derided, his scorn apparent in his tone.

"I see how it is. You muscle-headed Saiyans don't know about holding hands. You probably couldn't comprehend the meaning behind it… you're too used to being a rough-n-tumble brute, after all."

He gave a spurning chortle. "Enlighten me, then. I'll try not to laugh at how you would believe such a repugnant act of affection could hold any meaning beyond making one want to vomit."

"You seem to understand that it's an affectionate act, at least. See, you're not as clueless about romance as you make yourself out to be. You're just shy. That's really adorable, Vegeta." Her remark was followed by the most infuriating, smug smile he'd ever seen on her.

Was she dense? He wasn't _shy_. He was simply reserved about which physical interactions he was willing to extend to her, and he was not eager to do something for the sole purpose of being endearing. Holding hands didn't seem interesting at all. To him, physical affection had to herald _some_ suffering on the recipient's part… otherwise why would any warrior such as himself engage in these sorts of things? The notion alone was maddening.

"Hey, I'm still waiting here," Bulma crooned, lifting her leg to caress his thigh. "Are you going to continue? Enlighten me, almighty prince."

He was not sure of how he felt about the approving use of his proper title paired with her insolence. He opted on feeling insulted, to a degree. He lifted himself away from her. Not allowing her a chance to recoup or reposition herself, he forced her shirt off over her head—a little too hastily, as the sound of ripping fabric was heard by both.

"Gee, thanks a lot…" Bulma complained, though her tone was devoid of any real concern. She had several additional pairs of the same shirt in such an event that bedroom clothes-tearing should happen.

Vegeta fumbled in vain as he attempted next to remove her bra without breaking it (just so she wouldn't offer up more complaints). While he was preoccupied, Bulma stated, "You know you're more than welcome to stay after you take out those androids. Just think about it, we can do naughty things like this every day!"

He tore the bra off, hurling the broken lingerie across the room. To hell with it—the woman probably had several hundred duplicates of the damned undergarment. The swell of her perfect breasts which he had revealed for his viewing pleasure made the bra's sacrifice well worth it. She had been right about the number of hickies he had left across her skin, he noticed. Her bruised flesh bore his marks of carnal passion and possession. He smirked at seeing what he felt was his justly charted territory.

"Ugh, talk about impatient. Anyway… you're not going to die like that fortune-telling brat from the future claimed," she rambled on, elaborating vainly, "Not with the help of that new and improved armor made by yours truly."

She was reprimanded with a punishing nip on the shoulder. He'd had enough of her drivel. The wicked harridan seemed to make sport of this profitless banter, and her endless jabbering had stalled his procession. It seemed she had ensnared him just so she could babble on about things of no importance… although he did approve of her faith in him.

She urged him on with a budge of her hips. Prepping this masochistic cretin with bites must have made her impatient. He leaned forward and tongued at one of her nipples, his eyes piercing the helpless expression on her face as he carefully watched how she reacted. He then sucked the teat into his mouth, adding a nibble of teeth, satisfied to hear the heiress whine, but to his favor she did not offer any more of her commentary.

Relieving her from his mouth, he ventured back to her neck, hovering above the area. She felt his hot breath on a portion of her neck that he had dampened with his tongue minutes before. He looked over her flushed skin, calculating and feeling the high state of tension in her quivering arms. Her need had at last reached its peak, and now he could spare himself the chore of preparing her. He separated from her, sitting on his haunches as he grabbed her from behind her knees and pulled her up by her legs until she was against him, and with one roll of his hips he plunged into her, not wasting a moment nor waiting for her to acclimate to him as he began his pummeling. Bulma twisted her body in accordance with the pace he set at this position until his angled thrusts made contact with her grafenberg. She sighed contentedly, relaxing and allowing her body to sway with the propulsion of his incoming thrusts.

Vegeta paid close attention to her every reaction, learning and memorizing. As observant as he was, he didn't fail to notice when she extended her arms, stretching them as far as they would go in an attempt to reach around to his back, presumably so she could rake her nails across his hide. He saw her curled claws—he would not have any of that, not again. The scratches her devilish manicured talons had left him with still hadn't faded.

He grasped both of her wrists and pushed her arms into the mattress above her head, not once breaking his thrusts. But as he repositioned himself to bind her hands he slipped from her sheath, his erection sliding along the curve of her.

Bulma craned her neck forward to find a reason behind the loss of heat. "Hey, what are you—_oh_," she fell silent as the head of his shaft repeatedly hit against her clitoris.

Vegeta was displeased to notice he had slipped out of her. He took a reprieve from his thrusting to maneuver himself back into her, but she vehemently protested, "No, do that again!"

He scoffed, and with a quick, intrusive thrust he was enveloped once more, though generously he introduced the flat of his hand, taking up a kneading motion of his palm against the nub of flesh while he resumed his pumping. His accommodation was awarded a loud cry and a wild bucking movement rolling from Bulma's torso to her hips. Her hands now freed, she clawed at the sheets at her sides, her fingers gripping so tightly the tendons rippled beneath the skin.

He recognized she was nearing her peak upon feeling her body tremble beneath his. Her release was imminent and would come expediently, which came as a pleasant surprise to him. It generally took him an all-out effort of prolonging the experience in order to bring her to her apex. He smirked, taking pride in being able to commove her to such a degree, and so quickly, too—though he would not credit his unintentional slip for this change in fortune.

He had to smother out her cries with his mouth once she spewed forth a litany of expletives, announcing her pleasure—as if he really needed the vocal confirmation that she enjoyed it, not when he was so carefully in-tune to her body's every reaction, and not when he was so sure of his copulating abilities. With his free hand he grabbed her by the hip for leverage, his occupied hand still gliding against her flesh, now with added pressure and force to punish her for her shrieking, and to expedite her release.

Upon breaking away from the kiss he locked gazes with her, determination and focus set in his scowl. He intended to stare her down both to intimidate her (he hoped, at least) and to confirm that she would be fully sated, as a little stoking of his ego and to be certain that she wouldn't come crawling back for more; he expected as much from that near-insatiable libido of hers.

She liked that he was so vigilant—receiving such attentions from her prince elicited good feelings, and he was so inclined to please her, bandaged and worn as he was. That level of dedication spoke volumes to her, a touching conveyance of what she believed was his adoration for her. Tentatively she inched her fingers up to his chest to graze the scar above where his heart resided, feeling his pulse rushing against her fingertips. It was her subtle way of affirming to him that he had been given a second chance at life, and she would be a part of it, just as he'd been integrated into hers. She was willing to accept every scar—both physical and intangible—of his past life.

Ordinarily he would have found some reason to be annoyed by her invasive fondling of his most hated scar, but he was not bothered by it. Rather, that feeling that had been festering inside him over the months now surged in his chest, prickling with such intensity that he was afflicted. He winced and shut his eyes, distractedly chewing at his bottom lip as he tried to force the repugnant feeling away—he was preoccupied, dammit, and he didn't want to dwell on that emotional infirmity she'd plagued him with. But he faltered clumsily, and the strong, consistent rhythm of his methodical thrusts was broken for a moment.

Pouting, Bulma tightened her fingers over his heart, clawing at his chest to spur him back into action. Right away he swatted her hand with a snarl. He picked up his pace again, thrusting his hand out and crushing his fingers around her breast, right above her hears, to see how she liked being pawed at. He bit back a sinister cackle, thinking he'd be punishing her for fondling at him, but he couldn't help but give a dry laugh when she writhed and moaned in pleasure, signaling him with her climax call. He should have known the pain-loving miscreant would like it. Her fingers rooted themselves into the bed sheets, curling and gripping and she fell silent, drawing in one sharp breath and holding it as the tremors of release flowed through her.

Satiated and physically spent, she slumped against the mattress. He separated from her and collapsed at her side, exhausted and at his limit and panting fervently. A sheen of perspiration coated her body, and underneath the two of them the sheets were absolutely drenched. He would not be sleeping here tonight, but for now he needed to recoup as much as she did. The mattress was small and cramped, but he didn't bother leaving or shoving her from the bed.

He was anticipating her post-sex commentary (her appraisal, specifically), but she was abnormally unresponsive. The shuddering in her arms and legs hadn't subsided. Perhaps the furious pounding he had dealt her had wrecked her fragile body. He felt a fleeting pang of guilt—but only if it meant their libidinous couplings should come to an end if it turned out his pummeling had left her crippled.

Alas it seemed this was a symptom of an extreme human orgasmic high, not the signs of her oncoming mortality. After recovering she looked over at him and just stared, speechless with wonder. Did he have to make a point of excelling at everything?

His lips threatened a vain smirk. It felt good to his pride to bring her to such a state of sheer ecstasy. Though soon her unwavering staring rattled his nerves, so he remarked, "If you've recovered from near-death, I suggest you leave."

"Oh, hush," she rasped out in a weak breath and slapped at his bicep, but that only seemed to amuse Vegeta further. He wanted to jeer at her physical plight, but he was just as exhausted as she was. He still hadn't properly rested after the day's training, and his consciousness was fading fast. He turned from her and shut his eyes, too tired to force her to leave or get up and leave himself. He didn't care all that much if she stayed here with him, anyway.

Bulma patted her skirt down and settled herself under the blanket, stretching contentedly. She would have gotten up and left the room to fetch a snack, but her shirt and bra lay shredded in a crumpled heap somewhere on the linoleum floor. She had Vegeta to thank for that, though she was not too inclined to leave her spot on the bed at his side.

To test his limits of tolerance even further, but mostly to get a rise out of him, she slid her hand down to his hindquarters, caressing his bare ass and tail stump. To her surprise he didn't threaten her this time, only grumbling something imperceptible and giving another swat of the hand to deter her.

She took in the details of his rigid form, glistening with sweat from their shared ordeal. Her hand made its way up to his shoulder, which she absently massaged as she said, "Hey, I'm sorry for teasing you earlier… but _that_… wow. You should be proud of yourself, you're the only guy who's ever gotten me to shake like that!"

Here it was, the praise he had felt he deserved. With his back to her, she did not see the smirk gracing his lips. He wasn't surprised by her admission. He was so certain that he was the only being who was capable of bringing that much elation out of her. While he couldn't manage getting her to shudder with fear, this was much more satisfying.

She watched him intently, hoping for a reaction as she said next with a tiny smirk on her lips, "You know I _totally _love you."

It sounded more like a casual jibe rather than a heartfelt proclamation, her tone carefully reserved from letting any shred of dependence show. Nevertheless he cringed.

_Love_, this ugly term had finally reared its deplorable head, and it was directed at him in a nonchalant manner, but it still stirred him.

It had to be a mental illness. If that were the case, it couldn't possibly be contagious… he hoped.

Bulma waited for a response, but he gave her none. Of course she hadn't been expecting him to return those three words she longed to hear, but his silence was striking all the same. He didn't openly chide her or make a mockery of her terms of endearment. That was a good sign to her. Gradually he was opening himself to her affections, though scowling through them and casting deterring remarks, he didn't refuse them.

Even he was surprised by his leniency. He would have killed anyone else for freely groping at his scars and inciting him.

He reflected on his dream, recalling how he had felt that morning upon waking—the strange feelings of how important it was to keep this woman alive, even if it meant going against his warrior's pride. To justify this attachment, he would have easily associated such feelings with his status of royalty; in that sense it would be logical that he be remotely concerned for Bulma's well-being because, as a leader, it was his obligation to look out for his subjects. He would not have assumed there may be any notions of love behind his feelings. Such a repugnant thought wouldn't have crossed his mind. It was extraordinary that he could even feel anything above pity for her. Certainly he had never valued anyone else's life above his own, and as long as it didn't interfere with his own safety he may have only briefly considered being charitable enough to lend a hand to spare her from meeting a gruesome death, should the occasion arise where an assailant might threaten her life. It would be less than ideal for him to lose this clever woman if he could avoid it.

Only there was one thing that squandered that theory—he no longer viewed her as a subject or his servant, try as he might to throw off her suspicions with insincere hostility.

He had promised himself he would never harm her… but could he go out of his way to keep her alive; to protect her? Would he save her from the androids?

He resolved that as long as it wouldn't trouble him, he would save her from death. Not by any sort of obligation to the relationship they had, but because he consciously chose to keep her alive out of necessity. Aside from his pride, she was the only one who reinforced that. And if anyone should try to take that from him, they would pay.

And he didn't want to die against the androids, as was fated. He wanted to live, and Bulma had openly offered him a place in her life. Nobody had ever welcomed him with a sincere invitation like this. Perhaps it wouldn't be _such_ an awful thing to live here on Earth. He would decide upon that once he'd destroy those robotic puppets and restored his honor after slaying the lesser Saiyan.

* * *

A/N – Basically nonstop lemons again (lemons oh god they r so horrible and GORSS) with some character development veiled under all the smut. Also, for one of my tumblr anons I have included more tickle time, WITH A TWIST (I hope it wasn't super duper kawaii OOC for Vegeta to force the tickling bombardment on Bulma with the excuse of sadistic/revenge purposes). I also wonder if he'd ever been tickled before he lived on Earth. Maybe his mother tickled him as a babby and he got mad and gnawed one of her fingers off. New headcanon.

Oh and while on the topic of OOC, um V seems romanticized/tsundere a little. He'll revert back to his asshole behavior soon, that pricky prince we all love in the android through Cell arcs :T Obv he goes back on his little "I will save u from death onna" resolve wat a gr8 guy


	29. Chapter 29

A/N - Wow, it's been over a year since I last updated. You'll probably notice my writing style's changed a little bit. Anyway, many apologies for my absence!

* * *

Following Vegeta's return to Capsule Corporation, the prince and his courtesan had taken up a routine of largely avoiding one another as they went about with their daily tasks. It was usually Bulma who ended up stalking her prince throughout the compound in pursuit of her lewd conquests, all the while growing bolder and making passes at him even around her parents.

Eagerly he'd pay her back for her mockery and unwarranted verbal exchanges that preceded their trysts. Rather than letting her persistence get to him he instead allowed his anger to fuel him. Fornicating was his only means of retaliating against her; he found humor in regarding their coupling as him repeatedly impaling the feisty, masochistic woman with a part of his anatomy. He never grew tired of seeing her wrath emerge, although it was too often she wound up the victor in their little spats, cutting at his pride in the process (maybe he was the bigger masochist of the two). Making her angry was a sport he enjoyed, and the hate-sex she provided gratified his barbaric battle needs. With her it was never grueling nor short of supply.

Neither would profess that what drew them together wasn't just the pursuit of vulgar conquests, but something that didn't need to be affirmed through words. Nor was that bond founded with an obligation to keep the other company. Both were much too stubborn and independent. Bulma however seemed to take sadistic delight in coining her scowling prince as her significant other.

The adorable way he shifted uncomfortably beneath her when she called herself his Queen when she sat upon his lap. And she jeered at the way his face contorted with disgust when, snickering, she referred to him as a 'boyfriend'. He'd never permit himself to be addressed by such a demeaning title, so he was quick to counter by calling her a number of insults. Too bad for him she possessed a sharp tongue that was always ready to fire back at him with horrid, lewd comments that stung his pride.

He pretended he hated engaging in all the romantic activities she imposed on him, scowling his way into affections with complaints of 'Aren't you aware of how much this sickens me?' and Bulma's favorite, 'I'm only doing this so you will shut up. In no way am I complying with your absurd demands'.

It hadn't been difficult for her to provoke him into becoming more inventive with their sexual encounters, but he always excused himself on the pretense that he was merely controlling his slave. He would twist and contort her in the most uncomfortable positions, as if she were a wet towel he was wringing out, and with foreplay (which Bulma always insisted on) he'd start off by exploiting any means he could agitate her until she was left begging him to let her finish—to Vegeta it sounded more like she was pleading for a mercy kill. He smirked to correlate the two.

He never liked taking her in her own room. He hated going to the cluttered quarters of such a sloven miscreant. It was also a territorial issue for the proud royal. He'd prefer to drag her off somewhere where he felt he could exert some degree of mastery over her, marginal as it may be. He always found a more suitable location, up against a wall if necessary.

The heiress noted two dispositions of her prince in the sack—most commonly she faced him as the impatient, self-satisfying sadist. And on the other hand, if Bulma happened to say something indicating that she thought highly of him (offering compliments or calling him by his proper title) he would be accommodating. Only during such occasions would he allow her to do whatever she wished, and he would make sure to fully serve her needs, though never without feigning extreme resentment.

He tried not to come to any conclusions that he might actually like seeing her sated. He processed the satisfaction he derived as him taking nothing beyond fiendish pleasure in making her shudder with vulnerability. This was the only way he could get her to tremble, as he could not rely on fear to gain an edge over her. He put in the extra effort just to see her writhe so piteously, and she in turn liked the extra attention.

Bulma was beyond libidinous, perhaps even a nymphomaniac, Vegeta suspected. He soon learned that she could last for an indefinite amount of time, taking short and sparse breaks only to regain her breath, or to argue with him over which position to assume for the next round. The woman frequently went so far as to interrupt his training to demand a quick tussle. Not that he was really complaining. It felt pretty good to him to be worshiped in such a way.

So he was not completely disgusted when she would recline at his side post-sex to babble on about mechanical engineering, or her company's latest innovations to Hoi Poi capsules. These were not topics that held his interest, but he allowed her to stay for a while. Sometimes he would permit her to run her hands through his hair, or brush her fingertips along his rugged skin while fretting about the latest injuries he'd acquired, things he couldn't care less about. He could endure her badgering him if it meant receiving that unyielding support and adoration she provided him with.

At the time it really didn't seem so horrible—the thought of staying with her.

* * *

Bulma was loitering in the kitchen, guzzling down her fourth cup of coffee that day. It was the only thing keeping her awake, tired and grouchy as she was from overworking herself repairing her demanding prince's training equipment again.

Vegeta happened to be in the room when she'd entered, ransacking the fridge and piling a mountain of meat and vegetables on the counter. As always, Bulma took the opportunity to ogle him.

"So, how's your training going? Mister Super Saiyan."

She'd greeted him pleasantly enough, but she was prodding at a raw nerve. His tolerance wore thin after another day of no progress. He gave her _that_ look, the one she'd come to recognize as his most probing, hateful scowl.

What was his deal? She huffed loudly, watching him storm away with his mountain of food in his arms.

This relationship was lacking in communication too, on his part at least, aside from his constant demands and the caveman sounds he made.

Perhaps later he would again tell her to hurl her corpse onto the mattress, to which she would squeal and offer protests. And they would role play 'master and servant' once more, though maybe it was only a game to her. She was certain he considered that more than fantasy.

They were both feeling pretty volatile today, which only made things all the more fun. Hopefully her fatigue would subside by that evening.

* * *

The feeling of his sweat-slicked forehead smeared against the back of her neck was all it took for her to be overwhelmed by nausea. She frantically slid out from underneath him, stumbling naked across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

It was all that caffeine, definitely.

Vegeta could only listen on in horror as she puked up her sixth cup of coffee.

* * *

Gradually the symptoms had intensified. She suffered a number of what she'd thought were common ailments. To Bulma this all registered as a bad stomach flu, and she shrugged it off. As time wore on and the symptoms persisted and escalated, along with an influx of hormones which worsened her temperament, she began to worry. She opted to set up for an appointment at her clinic and prayed it was nothing to be concerned about.

She was mortified when she was informed she was well along the first trimester of her pregnancy. In denial, she had screamed at her physician and hauled the poor woman over the counter to scream in her frightened face. "You've gotta be kidding me! I have a lot of very important projects that I need to finish! I can't have a baby, not now! CHECK AGAIN!"

An unplanned pregnancy couldn't fit into her schedule. She left the clinic in a rage and headed to her ob/gyn's office unappointed to demand a second opinion. The pregnancy was only reconfirmed to her.

She sped home, so distraught that she accidentally crash-landed her mini plane into her study. She stomped over the debris and headed for her room. Maybe she liked it better this way! Yeah, she'd just have a balcony extended to allow enough space for 5 helipads. Such a frivolous decision that she could tackle easily.

Unlike having a half-alien parasite depending on her body for safety and sustenance for nine months.

She almost felt sad for it, thinking about it that way. Until she imagined a Giger abomination bursting from her womb. It would have a tail, of course, and already a full head of hair with a receded hairline, just like its daddy. It would surely inherit her sea-foam green hair color, which would span every inch of its body like a primate's fur coat.

Bulma clenched her gut and shuddered. She'd have heaved and puked again if her stomach wasn't empty.

Oh, how she would love to eat a nice cake topped with strawberries and chocolate syrup to take her mind off this disaster. A nice early birthday cake for the Chestburster-baby inside her.

Would this pregnancy be a hindrance in any way? Inconvenient, yes. Would her life become hectic? This couldn't be any more hectic than the upcoming android invasion. She was blessed to live a rich, carefree life with parents who supported her with whatever she did. She would be able to afford caring for a child without any problems.

How would this impact the lives of those around her? Its father was someone who'd hurt her friends. If—when—they found out she'd been knocked-up by the guy who had tried to kill them all, they'd be heartbroken. Not that she could blame them after the atrocities Vegeta had committed, and they didn't know him on such an intimate level. Vegeta didn't show his nice side to just anybody. How could they understand? They didn't see the Saiyan in the same light that Bulma did. Hopefully they would see that he wasn't so awful when the time came for him to fight alongside them to save their future.

A future that was looking so bleak. There was a good possibility she only had a few more years left to live, though she was confident in Vegeta's abilities (more so in her own technical prowess; certainly it was her upgrades to his equipment that helped him become as powerful as he was now). Still, there was a chance that kid's prophecy about their future could not be altered.

This could be her only chance to get in as many life experiences as she could. Although it was happening a bit sooner than she'd have liked, she'd always wanted to keep her future open to the possibility of having a kid. She wasn't looking forward to the changes she'd need to make to her diet, though. Quitting smoking for good. Shopping for maternity clothes. The changes to her figure.

The tabloids would likely blow up with more libel, alleging the heiress got knocked-up out of wedlock to get back at her ex or some equally ludicrous garbage. That'd be only a small nuisance compared to everything else she had on her plate.

She struggled to remember what her mother had said about pregnancy—Bulma hadn't paid much attention at the time. She had been too busy thinking about adventures and chasing after boys, tuning out most of her mother's lectures. Her mother hadn't carried a half-Saiyan child, though, let alone the offspring of a bad-tempered intergalactic ape prince. There wasn't much the family matriarch could offer on the subject.

Bulma had no comprehension of what Saiyan pregnancies were like, and she doubted Vegeta would have the slightest knowledge on such a topic that likely didn't interest him. The heiress had a slight pang of fear that a Saiyan baby tore through its mother's womb at birth. She considered consulting Chi-Chi on the matter, but the risk of having anyone outside of her immediate family knowing of this predicament wasn't favorable.

How was she supposed to tell her parents? If telling them of her unplanned pregnancy alone wouldn't be distressing enough, they would also know of their daughter's scandalous relations with the freeloading space chimp. If the scratches she'd left all over his back on many occasions hadn't indicated as much, that is. Son of a bitch liked walking around her home shirtless.

Oh, well. If her parents had any qualms about her life choices, well, she had an argument prepared. "You know how I feel about muscular guys with nice butts. It was meant to be. And look at it this way, mom, now you won't have to feed me your 'I want cute grandchildren' monologue anymore."

But more mortifying over all else was the thought of having to inform the other party responsible for this. She blamed him, in a way. She was not consistent with taking her birth control at times and she easily blamed Vegeta for distracting her. The bastard. Demanding so much of her time and attention and love.

But now Vegeta would have an heir. A fellow Saiyan to keep him company. Maybe he wouldn't be so lonely anymore.

And mean. And murderous. Just maybe.

Oh, god. He was going to be a father.

"Bulma, did you feel that explosion?" Mrs. Briefs somehow managed to sprint into the room wearing 3 inch stilettos and balancing a tray of cocktails on one hand. "Did you fly your plane into the house again?"

Bulma looked on at the beautifully colored cocktails with intense, dismal yearning. Right, she couldn't have any alcohol when pregnant. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Is something the matter?"

The mother-to-be was in serious need of immediate comfort. She broke into sobs. "Mom... I have something to tell you. But you can't let anyone else know!"


End file.
